The Reason
by Becky Tailweaver
Summary: In the dark bloody days of the Bakumatsu, the lone and weary Hitokiri Battousai is sent a single light of the future. This gift may give him the hope and heart he needs to survive the war - but only if the teenage manslayer can handle the responsibility!
1. Prologue: I Just Want You To Know

_**Disclaimer:** Himura Kenshin and all his friends (and various enemies) belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, who was wise and kind enough to create such an enjoyable series. Other original characters invented in this fic belong to me. But I'm still not getting any money out of this, so please don't sue.  
**Author's Note:** Nobody shoot me please, I'm posting this story as a stress-reliever while I'm working intensely (read that "insanely") on a couple other fics for contests, one of them very serious indeed. So...yes, I know I should be working on other things, but I needed to post something easy and lighthearted as a diversion, before I broke my brain. ; Gomen nasai to all, and I hope you enjoy._

**Rurouni Kenshin:  
The Reason **

Prologue: I Just Want You To Know

**2nd year of Keiou  
1867 - Afterlife**

_"There is still such sadness in him," whispered a voice, as soft as a summer breeze. "I wish that he could stop fighting, but I would not see him lose the will to live..." _

An etherial woman, dressed in a pale kimono and a blue scarf, watched anxiously as events continued in the living world. Time had stopped for her, for all the rest of eternity, but still she looked back, through the Veil, concerned for the ones she had left behind.

"Worrying for him again, love?" spoke another voice, causing the woman to turn.

"Akira-kun..." Himura Tomoe's face softened at the sight of her slain fiance; a man she had loved--still loved--and had been promised to marry. "Hai. Sumimasen...I know it should not matter to me any more, but..."

"I know," Kiyosato Akira replied, smiling gently as he kissed her forehead. "I felt the same way about you. But," he went on ruefully, "Himura-san was there to look after you, so I didn't worry too much."

Tomoe smiled thankfully. "I am still ever grateful you do not resent him...for what happened..."

"I did resent him for killing me," Akira reminded her quietly. "But he made restitution by caring for you in my absence, when you were left alone. And in the end, he reunited us in death at the cost of his own heart...and I know you cared for him deeply, love..."

"Akira-kun...Anata..."

"Still, why do you worry for him so? I know the times that you left behind are dark, but they won't remain that way."

Tomoe glanced down. "I just want him to survive this horrid war, and to find happiness someday..."

"He will, darling," Akira promised her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "I've seen it."

"**Seen** it?" Tomoe gasped, staring at him. "But how?"

"Ah--gomen, I forgot. You haven't been here quite as long as I--did you not know? There are different rules here," Akira explained with a wry grin. "We are outside of Time now...above it, so to speak, so we can look at it any way we wish."

"Truly?" Tomoe wondered, amazed. "All this time, I didn't realize..."

"I'll show you," Akira said, pulling her in another direction. "Come, look over here..."

He showed her where to look through a different part of the Veil--ahead in Time, she supposed--and when the image cleared she gasped aloud at what she saw.

A slim red-haired man in magenta knelt in the yard of a large, pleasant-looking house, scrubbing at the laundry--her Kenshin, doing laundry!--and posessed of a most cheerful, gentle smile. Tomoe had never seen such a look from him, even when they had been so happy together in their little house in Otsu. This Kenshin--though he hardly looked any older than when she had known him, and she wasn't sure how many years had passed--had open, peaceful eyes. He was... content.

His voice spoke, soft and gentle, comments regarding an upcoming meal and friends to arrive. The one he spoke to, a dark-haired woman in yellow on the porch of the house, laughed and replied, calling him "Kenshin-no-baka" in a lovingly teasing manner, her blue eyes sparkling.

Tomoe heard more laughter, then; a child's laughter, shrill and bright, and in a moment another figure entered her view--a tiny boy-child, perhaps no more than two or three, with familiar red hair and brilliant blue-violet eyes. The child danced in to play in the soap suds, cheeks flushed from activity, and gazing at the boy Kenshin's face changed even more.

At the sight of father and son together, Tomoe made a soft sound of wonder, and though she was not supposed to shed tears in this place, her eyes still welled--with happiness, not grief; happiness for Kenshin, at how peaceful and glad he looked with a new home and family, free of shadows and war. And pure joy at the sight of the beautiful little boy who brought so much light and life into her Kenshin's existence.

Akira's arm tightened around her. "See, love? One day, he will be happy."

"Hai...one day..." Tomoe looked back at the place she had been viewing, where her Kenshin stalked through the dark city of Kyoto with a broken heart and bloody hands. Her Kenshin, the one she'd left behind to mourn her death by his own sword, who saw no hope and no end to war and death--who was dying inside because of her memory and all the sorrows he bore, bleak and burdened, seeing only a doomed future ahead of him. "I wish...he could see," she confessed in a whisper, her eyes once more turning to the little boy. "I wish he could see this child...and know that there is light and hope in his future..."

Akira chuckled softly. "It would change his outlook, wouldn't it? If he knew. But then, seeing one's own child long before that child's birth is bound to change any man. I daresay it would turn Himura-san's world on its ear."

"I just wish for him to keep the will to fight, to finish this war and to live on," Tomoe replied with a faint smile. "I hear in the channels of Fate that this war **must** be finished, and that Kenshin **must** win...but each day I see him fading, like a candle dying out. I fear for him, Akira-kun..."

"Ah...yes, he has to succeed..." Akira turned back to her from the place he had been looking--another spot in Time he had not shown her--and there was an odd grin on his face. "You know...you are not far off in your wish, darling. If Himura-san could see that child, it would give him the reason he most needs to overcome his obstacles and win."

Tomoe nodded sadly. "Hai. But..."

Her fiance winked conspiratorily. "It can be done."

Now, Tomoe looked positively flabbergasted--uncharacteristically gaping. "A-Anata...how...?"

"You yourself said, Fate calls for Himura-san to succeed. We are allowed." Akira looked positively sly--rather uncharacteristic of him as well. "I had done some looking into things like this after I died, to find some way to reach you. We have some 'credit,' so to speak, due to the circumstances of our deaths; we both died in defense of another--you most especially, love. We can call in a favor, as it were, and let Himura-san see the hope in his future."

"We...we can?" Tomoe's expression shifted to something gently joyful once again. "Oh...Akira-kun...! But how would it be accomplished?"

Akira shrugged slightly. "I'm not certain of the specifics; a higher power sees to that. All we can do is submit the wish, and it will be carried out as Fate sees fit. Himura-san will see the child."

Tomoe glanced shrewdly at her grinning fiance. "Akira-kun, you have **seen** something, haven't you?"

"Perhaps. Let us make our request, and I will show you."

"You wicked, wicked man," Tomoe laughed, too ladylike to give in to the temptation to smack her fiance on the shoulder. "Very well--and hurry, for I do not want to see him fall any further into despair."

Akira smiled at her, and reached out. "Aa. Let us send him hope."

"Hai...let us send him **love**," Tomoe whispered, her eyes fixed upon the face of the precious child. "And...I pray it will be enough..."

She took his hand, and from their joined hands a light shone forth, asking a boon of Time and Fate itself, and reaching far to touch and change the world they'd left behind.

* * *

**15th year of Meiji  
Mid-Summer 1882 - Tokyo**

Himura Kenshin hummed softly to himself as he hung up the laundry to dry, listening to the happy sounds of the Kamiya Dojo at peace--Kenji's laughter, Yahiko and Kaoru shouting at each other in the practice hall...

As he worked, Kenshin kept a close eye on Kenji as the little boy hopped and played--barefoot and somewhat disheveled, since he had apparently escaped from Kaoru after his bath, while she was distracted by Yahiko's teasing insolence. Mature lady though she might try to be, his beloved young wife still had a fiery streak in her that reacted quite powerfully to her best pupil's stubbornness--and Kenshin would have her be no other way. Still smiling, Kenshin resigned himself to running Kenji through another bath once the last of the laundry was hung up.

It really _was_ much, much easier to raise a child in these peaceful times of Meji, that it was.

Kenshin fluffed out the last gi and spread it carefully over the pole so that it would dry properly and with no unsightly wrinkles, stepping back to untie his sleeves and sigh in satisfaction for a job well done. He glanced at Kenji, who was curiously poking at traveling ants with a twig, and felt his expression soften in fondness.

Precious little Kenji, his joy and promise of the future; Kaoru's temper and insistence all bundled up with his own--he ruefully admitted--rebellious, stubborn bull-headedness, in a toddler-sized package of childish energy and insatiable curiosity, and with enough intensity to be daunting even to his own Shishou. An intelligent, willful child, combining the best--and the worst--of both his parents, in a completely new and unique personality that represented its own rewards and challenges.

Kenshin shook his head wryly; Kenji didn't seem to appreciate him much, still young enough to cling solely to his mother and consider his father just another, albeit constant, face in the crowd. And Kenji _was_ spoiled enough to cling, that was for sure. Sometimes Kenshin wondered where his own parenting backbone had gone to; he wasn't nearly as strict--he'd even cut his own hair to avoid tugs, rather than simply insist on Kenji behaving. But then, he supposed that seeing one's child born and raising him from infancy caused one to go quite soft on said child. Gratitude for the child's existence, gladness in participating in this new life, joy for leading a child of Meiji into a world of peace...

Though...really, sometimes he wished things could be more like he remembered...

Smiling, Kenshin continued to watch Kenji, feeling almost wistful at the way the child looked; nostalgia made him sigh--those tiny, dusty bare toes and rumpled light gray-blue yukata...it was almost familiar...

He caught his breath--and the moment the realization hit was the moment that reality warped around him and the yard of the Dojo erupted in a silent explosion of light, centering around his small son. For an instant, panic blanked his thoughts before comprehension restored order; the shout died in his throat and his muscles relaxed. He winced almost in pain as Kenji squawked in alarm--a childish yell that was truncated almost as it began, as the soundless light faded in an eyeblink and the Dojo yard was restored to normalcy once again.

Kenshin stared at the place the strange glowing tunnel had been. Closing his eyes, he took a deep, calming breath, the last few pieces of an old, old puzzle falling into place in his heart. Wistful, and almost sad, he gazed at the clear blue sky for a time, rather than the now-empty yard.

Then, with a tired, knowing smile, he turned to leave, to find Kaoru and inform her that their son would be gone for a little while...

* * *

**Time Unknown  
Location Unknown**

Kenji tumbled through the bright light, eyes squinted and limbs flailing--until he was uncermoniously dumped into darkness in a place that was cold and smelly and hard. He was left quite abruptly sitting on his rump in this dark place, on the dry, dirty ground, blinking owlishly as he waited for his eyes to adjust.

How did he end up in the middle of a dark street?

Confused and a bit frightened, his small lips turned to an upset pout and his brows to a pensive frown. This was not the right place--only a second ago he had been at his house, playing in the yard on a sunny day, with Touchan just nearby...

Movement caught his eye. There was someone there--just at the mouth of that alley, a human-shape in the dark, barely edged by the distant lamplight. Kenji went still, eyes wide; he couldn't see who it was, and it was scary enough to be abruptly dropped outside in the cold dark street.

The figure stepped forward, just a little. It was enough for a bit of light from the shaded windows nearby to softly illuminate the stranger--half of his face, the cut of his clothes, the color of his hair.

And it was a very familiar face indeed. Kenji's expression lit up immediately, glad to see the person who--even if not his most favorite, his Kaachan--was known and kind and most of all _safe_. So he scooted to his feet, smiling once more, small hands reaching out toward his savior.

_To be continued..._


	2. Part 1: I'm Not A Perfect Person

_**Disclaimer:** Himura Kenshin and all his friends (and various enemies) belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, who was wise and kind enough to create such an enjoyable series. Other original characters invented in this fic belong to me. But I'm still not getting any money out of this, so please don't sue._

**Rurouni Kenshin:  
The Reason **

Part 1: I'm Not A Perfect Person

**3rd year of Keiou  
Early Spring 1867 - Kyoto**

Hitokiri Battousai was not even winded, even after dispatching a small patrol of Shinsengumi that had attempted to corner him in a dark street. He was confident, at least, that the men he'd been looking after had escaped safely--but he had to catch up to them quickly and ensure that they reached the Inn.

He had just performed _chiburi_ and sheathed his sword when a bright flood of light dashed the sight from his eyes and brought him around--sword redrawn--with a gasp. His mind registered that the light was too bright, too white for torches--some kind of explosion or--

Or a strange, flickering, glowing _hole_ in the space above the middle of the street, swirling like a watery whirlpool as it spat something out and disappeared as abruptly as it had formed.

Alarmed, blinking spots from his eyes, Himura Kenshin stood at guard and tried to make out what the whatever-it-was had just deposited in the street. Far from being able to comprehend what that light had been at the moment, for now he simply concentrated on what he could hear and sense and on getting his vision back to normal.

It had to be a person--he was picking up confusion, fear, uncertainty in that person's ki. But it was strange, simple, bright colors...and somehow familiar.

It moved--a tiny huddled shape on the dusty street, as his vision cleared; a small head turning this way and that, searching.

A _child?_

Kenshin immediately sheathed his sword. As silent as he was, the motion still brought the child's head around with a jerk to peer at him.

_What is a child that small doing here?_ he pondered somewhat dazedly. _And more than that, how did it come to appear from that...thing?_

Any moment now the child was going to notice the six strewn bodies around him. He took two steps forward, to get himself clear of their midst, his mind working frantically to puzzle out the origin of the tiny form and what he was supposed to do with it. His better nature wouldn't allow him to just leave the child out here in the cold, dark, dangerous streets of Kyoto.

Abruptly, the little figure hopped to its feet with surprising alacrity, becoming more clear in the shaded light from the windows. A tiny pale face in the dark with large, bright eyes turned up to him, lit even more with a wide, welcoming smile. Small hands reached out to him as the toddler-sized form suddenly zipped toward him with a shrill cry.

"Touchan!"

Kenshin stared as the little arms attached themselves to his leg, unmindful of the spatters of blood. He was too shocked to move at first--how long had it been since anyone had approached him so easily? How long had it been since he had taken the time to play with children? How long had it been since anyone had embraced him so freely?

This had to be a very young child, he reasoned as the initial shock began to lessen, one slightly-numb hand reaching down to touch the soft head. Young enough to mistake him for its father, a male figure dressed in samurai garb. This child had come from..._nowhere_, from nothing, from a whirling tunnel of light--but it was still a _child_. No matter how cold he tried to make himself, he couldn't just leave it here alone...

His compassion _still_ would not let him leave an innocent, defenseless being alone in a cold, dark, dangerous street--even after what had happened with the _last_ one...

But he had a mission to fulfill. There was no way he could drag a toddler along for the ride--but no other way to insure this one's safety. This was not the best part of town; trying to get help from anyone here might result in this child disappearing into the lower depths of Kyoto forever, never to be seen by its parents again.

Coming to a decision, Kenshin carefully detached the small hands from his hakama and squatted down to eye-level with the child. He couldn't quite tell if it was a boy or girl, wearing a soft-colored child's yukata as it was, but the face was small, round-cheeked and sharp-chinned, the eyes large and...somehow too pale-looking--the hair, too, but in this hour of darkness all colors faded to shades of dim gray.

"Hello, little one." Kenshin spoke softly, hardly above a whisper, not wanting to alert anyone who might be nearby, or in one of the buildings. "What's your name?"

The wide eyes blinked confusedly. "I'm Kenji," said the small, thin voice. "Touchan...?"

"I'm not your father," he informed the child--a boy, with a name like that--gently. "You must be lost."

The little boy looked up and down the dark street briefly, brows turned pensive. "Lost," he agreed solemnly. "Where's Kaachan?"

"I don't know where your mother is," Kenshin replied, glancing up and down the street, feeling the press of time ever more acutely. "I might be able to help you get home, but you'll need to come with me."

Kenji nodded vigorously. "Go with Touchan."

"I'm not your father..." Kenshin sighed. "Alright, come on. And you must be very quiet."

Carefully, he lifted the little boy into his arms--such a _tiny_ child, and yet he spoke so well--and hurried off down the street, careful to avoid turning in a direction that would allow the child to spot the carnage behind him. On soundless feet he ran, the child tucked close to his chest, his every sense tuned to catch the slightest hint of enemy presence.

A confrontation with the Shinsengumi now would be disastrous.

Alert, he traced the path he expected the men would take returning to the Inn, hoping he would catch up to them. He would probably be scolded by Katsura-san for this lapse--stopping to take in strays, after all, was no job for a former hitokiri, and his last instance of doing so had proven ultimately catastrophic--but at least he'd taken care of the Shinsengumi chasing them.

Surprisingly, the obedient boy made not a sound as they sped through the streets. Kenshin had expected perhaps a murmur of complaint, or crying, or questions, but instead the little one simply kept his head against Kenshin's chest, held tight to his gi, and said not a word.

He could feel comfort and trust radiating from the boy's spirit, and the amount of it confused him. Even the most friendly child has some reserve when interacting with a stranger for the first time--did this little one truly believe he was being carried home by his father?

He wondered what other short, slim, soft-voiced samurai there were in Kyoto, whom he was unintentionally impersonating in the mind of this little boy. The only one he could think of offhand was Okita Soushi--but _that_ was more than unlikely.

Kenshin began to worry as he turned the corner to the Inn street and had seen no sign yet of his party--wait, there! At the Inn gate, just turning to enter! He heaved a sigh of relief and slowed his pace somewhat, more at ease now knowing that the mission was fulfilled and he wasn't as late as he'd thought.

He turned in the gate not long after the men, still carrying the quiet, compliant little boy. As the gate shut behind him he breathed a deep sigh, glad that one more assignment was over and that he was home safe--or at least as close to home as anywhere was, in these times. Okami-san's new Inn was their headquarters and safehouse once again, and it was the only place in Kyoto where he ever felt even remotely safe.

The lights were on and he could hear others inside. Kenji stirred curiously in his arms as he walked up to the door and pulled it back, stepping into the light of the entry hall to remove his sandals.

He heard Okami-san's rapid, diffident footsteps approaching, coming to greet him after having finished dealing with the men who came before. She had always been most kind to him, like a mother or an affectionate aunt; he trusted her more than he trusted most, and he knew she could help him with this...little problem.

The middle-aged woman came around the hall corner with a welcoming smile on her face, already speaking. "Himura-chan! My, I'm glad you're back in good time tonight, along with--" He saw her eyes snag on the child as she stopped right there in front of him. "Himura-chan...!"

Wasn't she a little more surprised than she needed to be? Really. "I apologize, Okami-san, but I seem to have picked up..." He glanced at the boy to indicate--but as he did, his eyes snagged just as hers had, widening in sudden shock.

Red hair.

The elfin face of the child was framed with _red hair_--flame-red, a shade darker than his own, long enough to fall around the small thin shoulders. And staring at him from out of that pale little face were two large blue-violet eyes, wide and bright as jewels.

It was almost like looking at his own face, with fifteen years peeled away.

"Himura-chan..." Okami-san's voice reached him through the startled shock, brought his head around to stare at her in a daze once more. "Himura-chan, is he...yours?"

Kenshin swallowed, trying to get whatever-it-was out of his throat. "I...I didn't..."

"Touchan?" Kenji spoke up for the first time in the Inn, surprising both of them. He looked at Okami-san, at the hall around him, then back to Kenshin's wide-eyed face. "Not home. Touchan, where is it?"

"I'm not..." His throat was too dry to finish; he tried swallowing again.

Meanwhile, Okami-san was smiling broadly. "What a beautiful child!" she said happily, reaching out to tickle the shyly curious little boy on the chin. "And so well-behaved, aren't you?"

Kenji squirmed a bit at the brief touch and finally smiled at the nice lady. "I'm a good boy," he informed them both proudly, looking up at Kenshin once more for confirmation.

"Yes you are," Okami-san agreed, keeping her smile and her tone pleasant as she turned a reprimanding look to Kenshin. "Though I must say, Himura-chan--_really_, bringing your child here during such times..."

Her direct words snapped the former hitokiri out of his dazed stare and back into business mode--albeit a slightly frantic business mode. "I--wait--he's not mine!" he burst out, before moderating his tone. "I just found him..."

Okami-san raised an eyebrow, flatly disbelieving.

"I...I need help," Kenshin went on, lowering his voice and leaning closer. "I swear, I just found him on the street tonight. There was a--" He broke off, unsure of how to explain the mysterious light. "I had to...deal with a squad of Shinsengumi. And when I was done, _he_ was there."

"I see." She still looked skeptical. "Himura-chan, I would prefer you be honest with me--I understand you trying to protect him, but--"

"You know I would _never_ bring a child into this frivolously," he spoke sharply, gone cold once more. "All I need is for you to look after him and ask around to see who's missing a child. He can't stay here and we both know that."

Okami-san sighed, apparently relenting, worried and sad. "I don't know, Himura-chan...you'll have to discuss this with Katsura-han. This is certainly no place for a child, especially not one that young. I'm not sure what we'll be able to do for him. If you have no place for him...Katsura-han may just have one of our agents drop him off at an orphan's shelter and leave it at that."

Kenshin felt a flutter in the little boy's oddly familiar ki--there was a recognition there, a fear...of being abandoned? Of being alone? He knew the feeling himself. "I'd hoped we could find his family quickly."

"Himura-chan..." Okami-san agreed. "These are dark times; you above all people should know that the world is not always so kind."

Kenshin closed his eyes. "Aa."

"Touchan? Sad?" asked Kenji's tremulous voice, and he opened his eyes to see the little boy's concerned blue-violet eyes peering into his own.

"You have _got_ to stop calling me that," Kenshin said ruefully, ignoring the question and remanding his private griefs to the back of his mind once again. No longer needing to carry the child for speed, he set the little one down on his own two feet--bare feet, he noted--and was chagrined to have the boy attach himself once more to his hakama leg. "I'll...go see Katsura-san," he announced awkwardly, sensing the tugs of amusement from Okami-san as he removed Kenji's grip from his leg. The boy didn't want to let go of him, so he found compromise by just holding his hand.

"Good luck, Himura-chan," the proprietess offered as the pair headed off down the hall, her lips still twitching with a sad sort of amusement coupled with...pity? Why should they need pity?

Kenshin sighed. _Now if I can just make it to Katsura-san's quarters without being seen..._

Fat chance of that. It was late evening and a lot of the Ishinshishi housed here were up and about, either lying around in the lounge or preparing to head up to bed. No one actually _said_ anything--not to the former hitokiri, the feared Battousai--as Kenshin and his young charge passed through the hallways, but the double-takes and disbelieving stares were enough.

_He just **had** to have red hair._ Somehow the thought of all these men assuming that the boy was his son made his cheeks heat. _Would it be too much to ask if it was just black? But no, it's **red**. He had to look **just like me**. And it fools everyone..._

There had been no one in his life but Tomoe--no one before or since. It was impossible for this child to be his.

_That doesn't mean everyone else knows that,_ his brain reminded him. _You're the only person with red hair that anyone's ever seen here--it's only logical..._

At last, he made it to Katsura-san's door, glad for the fact that his reputation kept most from being so foolhardy as to ask any questions. Clearing his throat softly, he tapped on the doorframe. "Sumimasen--Katsura-san?" he called through the paper door quietly. "I...have a slight problem I need to discuss with you."

_Slight problem? That's an understatement, Himura..._

"Himura? Please, come in," replied his superior's voice, amidst the sounds of someone putting away writing utensils.

"Ojamashimasu..." Kenshin slid the door back, and with a meaningful, silencing look at Kenji, stepped inside.

Katsura Kogoro was just rising from his place at a low desk, nodding a polite welcome to his finest and most competent soldier. "I was just going to send for you, to hear your report on tonight's..." He trailed off once he caught sight of the small figure half-hiding behind Kenshin's hakama-clad leg. Something like shock flickered across the man's tightly controlled features, and then his eyes rose piercingly back to Kenshin's. "Might I inquire as to why this child is accompanying you?"

Kenshin barely managed to keep his flush down to a dull roar. _Great, Katsura-san too..._ "It's what I wanted to speak to you about."

"Go on," Katsura replied neutrally.

"I know what he looks like, sir...but the truth is that I just found him tonight on the street. And I was hoping--"

"You were hoping we could locate his home and return him?" Katsura finished half-skeptically, his features softening almost fondly. "Sasuga Himura--always kindhearted though he strives not to be."

Kenshin flushed faintly again. "I... couldn't just leave him on the street, sir--on a night like this--"

"I understand. Please, sit, and we'll discuss it." Katsura gestured him to one of the cushions near the lamp. When they were all seated--Kenji close beside his rescuer--Katsura glanced at the boy with interest before continuing. "I must say, despite your claims to have simply found him, the resemblance between you two is striking. Are you sure that...?"

"Positive, sir," Kenshin replied tightly, controlling his voice to a cool, level tone. "There's been no one else."

Katsura nodded solemnly. "I see. So how, specifically, did you find him?"

"I had just dispatched six Shinsengumi that were attempting to apprehend our men," Kenshin responded, as flatly as if he were giving a rote report, "when I was nearly blinded by a bright light. The source was a strange door of light in the space of the street, and this child fell out. Then it was gone."

As he told his story, Katsura's eyebrows had been slowly climbing to his hairline. "Himura...if I didn't know you better I'd say you were lying through your teeth," he said at last. "Yet I know how bad you are at that. The next thing I would assume is that one of those Shinsengumi got lucky and cracked you over the head, but I must also admit that's highly unlikely."

Kenshin blinked once, surprise flaring behind his cool mask. "You believe me, sir?"

"I'm honestly not quite sure," Katsura replied. "You are not given to untruths, Himura. But this...'door of light' is a stretch of the imagination. Perhaps you were seeing things, perhaps not." Kenshin frowned at this, as Katsura glanced down at the little boy--who was trying valiantly not to fidget or yawn. "Our next question is...who is this, and where did he come from?"

The child looked up at Katsura as though the man were a little slow. "I'm Kenji!" he asserted, as if it should have been obvious. "Who're you?"

Katsura's mouth twitched. "Katsura Kogoro. I am his commander," he explained, pointing at the red-haired young man to elucidate.

"Touchan's... commander?" The little boy tried out the new word. Katsura's eyebrows went up, and Kenshin flushed yet again.

"He keeps calling me that..." the former hitokiri mumbled.

"A child wouldn't just call you 'father' for no reason whatsoever," Katsura observed thoughtfully. "There must be something else to this, door of light or no. Little one," he addressed the boy again, "can you tell me your full name? Your family name?"

The child paused for a moment, frowning. "...Himura Kenji?" he tried hesitantly.

Kenshin paused. "That's got to be wrong--he's just heard it from you and Okami-san..."

Katsura held up a hand, sending his warrior to silence. "Kenji-kun, who is your father?"

Once again, Kenji gave him a look as though Katsura were having trouble grasping reality. He pointed with one small finger at the youth sitting next to him. "That's Touchan," he said firmly. Kenshin almost yelped aloud.

And Katsura almost laughed. "I see. Kenji-kun, who is your mother?"

"Kaachan?" For a moment, the boy looked hopeful, but then looked around and frowned. "Not home. Kaachan's not here."

Katsura smiled again. "No, I suppose she's not. How about your parents' names? Do you know your father's name? Your mother's name?"

"Uh...Kaachan?" the child tried hopefully. "Kaachan is Kaachan..."

"Still not quite old enough to associate his parents with proper names." Katsura shook his head ruefully. "What do other people call your parents? What do friends call them?"

This time, Kenji scrunched up his face in careful thought. "Himura-san?" came one slightly confused guess.

"This isn't getting us anywhere..." Kenshin murmured.

"Let's try one more," Katsura offered patiently. "Kenji-kun, what does your mother call your father?"

"Anata!" Kenji answered, quickly enough and with a smile--that one he obviously was more familiar with. Then, with a thoughtful expression, he amended. "Uh...sometimes...Kenshin no baka!"

"Kenshin no baka" almost choked where he sat, blinking owlishly. And this time, Katsura actually did laugh--a brief, amused chuckle.

"I'm not sure what to think, Himura," the Ishinshishi leader said when his laughter had passed. "By all accounts, this boy is firmly convinced you're his father. And nothing he says contradicts it; he's not old enough to think up complicated lies like this--only to parrot back things he's heard. He obviously thinks he knows you quite well."

"But it's _impossible!_" Kenshin all but squeaked. Enough twists had been thrown at him tonight that his normally-stony composure had somewhat crumbled. It wasn't every day a little boy attached himself to your leg and called you Daddy.

Katsura ignored the outburst, continuing to regard Kenji thoughtfully. "Perhaps..." he muttered half to himself. "But maybe..."

"Sir?"

"I find it hard to believe that he simply came from nowhere," Katsura answered, looking nearly skeptical of himself. "But _if_ what you saw tonight was real...perhaps he is not your son now, but he will be someday."

The former hitokiri blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Bear with me for a moment." Katsura held up a placating hand. "You yourself said you saw a 'door' in the space of the street. What if it was not space, but time that this door passed through? What if this child is exactly what he believes himself to be, but he's simply a few years too early?"

Kenshin's face had gone blank and pale. "You mean...in the future I...?"

"I'm just saying it's a possibility," Katsura replied with a noble equivalent to a shrug. "You said you saw that light. If the supernatural is supposed to be involved, then _any_ explanation might work. In that case, perhaps instead this Himura Kenji child is a gift to you from the gods, sent to you for some unfathomable reason. Or perhaps a youkai has played a trick on you..."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed imperceptably. "Katsura-san, are you mocking me? I have not lied to you, ever--"

"Kenji-kun," Katsura interrupted, "can you tell me about your father? What is he like? What does he do?"

"Touchan's a swordsman. Hiten Misugi Ryu," Kenji was happy to reply, stumbling over the complicated name of the style. "Touchan's really strong!"

Kenshin's breath had stopped at the child's mention of the name of his master's sword school. Not just anyone would know that--not just any child. "Who told you that?" he demanded, almost harshly.

"Kaachan did," Kenji replied, a little wide-eyed at the tone. "Kaachan tells stories. Says Touchan win the war."

"Win the war...?" Katsura murmured, looking half surprised. "Ah, perhaps my jesting guess was not far from truth. Unless his mother was just being confident...if he _is_ from the future, this little prophet might be very useful."

"Don't even _think_ of using him for--" Kenshin broke off, startled at his own outburst, before moderating his approach. "Katsura-san, I'm not sure myself where he came from, but I don't know if it would be wise to demand too much of the future from him...if he _is_ from the future." His face tightened at that admission. "It might do more harm than good and interrupt the way things are supposed to be."

"I suppose that's right," Katsura agreed at length, after a quiet moment of thought. "If we win the war anyway," he added ironically.

There were several long moments of silence, in which both Kenshin and Katsura stared at the little boy. Kenji yawned and rubbed at an eye, the classic sign of sleepiness in a toddler. Kenshin tried to calm his thoughts enough to _think_, feeling upset that Katsura-san wasn't really believing him--honestly, as if he'd ever lied to his commander before! Sure, he didn't want anything bad to happen to this child, but that didn't mean he was really the boy's father.

"So...what do I do with him?" Kenshin asked softly at last, his Battousai composure still strong--but not above the remaining shock and confusion, heavily muffled.

"I don't imagine there's much you _can_ do, Himura," Katsura replied sadly. "He's in danger here as much as we all are. And more than that, he's in just as much or _more_ danger no matter where you send him. I don't know how you managed to keep him hidden _this_ long..."

Kenshin glanced up, his brows lowering.

"When you were the shadow assassin, and not a living soul outside our circle knew who you are...he might've been safe in an orphanage or monastery nearby. But as it is now, the whole of the Shinsengumi and the all troops of the Shogun in Kyoto know to look for a small man with red hair and crossed scars on his cheek."

"What does that have to do with him?"

Katsura shook his head. "Himura, you know how to think like a hunter. _Look_ at him."

Kenshin looked down at the little boy--who now all but leaned against his side, drooping--seeing the red hair that marked them both like a raised flag to the enemy. His eyes narrowed in a sudden, unfamiliar flash of defensive anger.

Seeing his comprehension, Katsura nodded slowly. "Indeed. Anyone who sees him will know he is connected to you. There is nowhere in this entire city he could stay where he would be safe from harm. The Shinsengumi--especially their captains--know you and your ki too well. And even I can sense that this little one is...similar to you."

_The familiar ki...it...it's half like mine...!_ "Then...I have to send him back where he came from somehow." Kenshin frowned again. "But how, when I don't even know for sure where he came from?"

"That, my friend, I do not know," his commander replied sadly, a tone of skepticism still coloring his ki. "You say yourself you don't even know how it was he arrived here."

_If he is mine...someday...**if** it is so...then that someday-me will be missing him..._ Kenshin glanced down at the innocent, droopy-eyed face trying not to nod off beside him. Even if the boy wasn't really his son...technically, it was as if he _were_, almost--and if Katsura-san's half-joking guess was right, he _would_ be--and Kenshin felt...responsible for him, somehow. Somewhere, somewhen, this little boy's parents would be waiting for him. He and the child shared blood--even if, for him, that time had not yet come.

_I wonder...who she is? After Tomoe, how can my heart...?_

"I believe it is best to house the boy here," Katsura said at last, breaking into Kenshin's thoughts. "I will allow it, at least for now. Obviously some emergency has prevented him from being able to remain where he was kept before, wherever that might be. For the moment, keeping him here with us will be the safest for him, and for you."

"For me?" Kenshin glanced up.

"I do not want to put you at risk, Himura," Katsura told him gravely. "You are one of our most valued assets. Should our enemy use the child as a tool against you..." The commander shook his head. "I do not presume to know your thoughts on this matter, but if I know _you_, you could not stand to see a child come to harm--_any_ child, whether yours or not. Better to keep you both out of Bakufu hands and avoid that scenario altogether."

Heartily agreeing, Kenshin nodded slightly.

"Okami-san and the servant girls can help to look after him for the time being," Katsura went on, his tone becoming more brisk. "For now, it's best to keep out of sight and continue as usual."

"Wakarimashita," Kenshin replied obediently--then hesitated, a thought coming to him. "Sir...how am I to explain him to the others? You know there's bound to be...questions." He barely fought down another uncharacteristic blush. _There already **are** questions..._

Katsura chuckled softly again, surprising him. "I don't think the chibi is going to make it any secret. Why don't you just stick to the truth?"

"But--!" Kenshin all but choked, the flush finally breaking through. "But he's not young enough to be...but Tomoe wasn't...but I...!"

"I didn't say you had to tell them everything," Katsura stated, fighting down his laughter. "Not when you won't even tell _me_. Just be as closemouthed as you usually are, and they'll get over it. A child out of wedlock may be embarrassing, but it's hardly unheard-of."

"But--but...!" Kenshin spluttered incoherently for a moment, his face nearly as red as his hair--before he swallowed back his mortification and clamped down on his expression. He was certain now that Katsura-san still did not believe him, and probably never would; the man hadn't seen firsthand the light that brought the child. So there was really no further reason to protest. Still not feeling very reassured about the whole situation, the young swordsman finally nodded obediently. "Ah....h-hai...I'll...go get something to eat."

"You do that." Katsura almost grinned. "And make sure _he_ gets fed, too. You've long since missed supper by now--you'll have to see Okami-san in the kitchen."

"Hai." Calm once more, his expressions under control, Kenshin nudged the sleepy boy next to him, bringing him out of his leaning doze. on, let's go."

"Touchan?" the child yawned pinkly, rubbing at his eyes again. "All done?"

"We're done," Kenshin replied, trying not to twitch at Kenji's method of addressing him. It made him feel...strange inside. "Are you hungry?"

Wakening more, Kenji nodded vigorously. He and Kenshin rose almost as one, and even as Kenshin gathered his swords from the tatami, Kenji caught at the fingers of his free hand and held on tight. Kenshin paused for a beat, then mentally shrugged, bowing to his commander. Katsura just waved him off, his twitching mouth hiding his obvious amusement.

Stepping out the door, Kenshin decided to simply hold his head up high, glare at anyone who whispered, and act like it was all completely normal. It had always worked before.

Fortunately, almost everyone was either in their rooms or still downstairs in the dining hall talking and drinking. He was able to slip all the way to the first floor without anyone noticing the two of them; Kenji moved quite well and quite silently for such a young child.

However, down on the first floor near the main halls, he came across the first gaggle of Ishinshishi patriots standing about on their meandering way to their rooms. The conversation came to a staggering halt when he and Kenji rounded the corner; Kenshin walked as a hitokiri from head to foot, practically radiating ice, while Kenji walked close at his side, clutching the youth's left hand, practically radiating incongruous cuteness.

It was quite the picture.

The five patriots standing in the hall stared at them the whole time as they went by--Kenji offering the dumbstruck men a friendly smile as he passed--but they didn't say anything, not so much as a murmur, so Kenshin didn't give them a backward glance. He made for the kitchen as fast as pride would allow, grateful when he could at last slip away from the awkward stares and the curious heads poking from the dining room doorway.

That didn't make the stares from the servant girls in the kitchen any less awkward.

"Himura-han!" Okami-san greeted him from the kitchen worktable, ignoring the other women--though she never addressed him by her pet name for him in the hearing of others. "I saved you a plate. How did it go?"

Kenshin stopped across the table from her with a sigh. "Katsura-san says Kenji will stay here with us. Until we can find a...safe place to send him."

Briefly, the older woman looked worried, a shadow passing over her features as she lowered her voice for his ears only. "I see...but...Himura-chan, what made you change your mind about this? Just before, you were--"

"He is my son." The words took a monumental effort to say through the dryness in his throat, and were barely above a whisper--but all the sound in the kitchen _stopped_, the serving girls and the cook all frozen still to turn serruptitious and disbelieving stares his way again.

Okami-san gazed at him for a moment. "As you say," she said after a deep breath, forgoing to mention the strangeness of their earlier conversation in the entrance--at least in front of the household staff. "Well then, you might as well get cleaned up and ready to eat--and take Kenji-chan with you. The poor thing is covered with street dust."

Kenshin hesitated. "You mean...I have to give him a bath?"

"Of course," the matron said, coming around the table to stand before him. "He'll need a bath and a fresh change of clothes--I can see if Sakura has any spare children's yukata in the guest closets. The bathwater should still be warm, and not too many have been in yet."

Kenshin's stomach disagreed with that idea. "Can't we eat first?" he asked, his voice level but his carefully-maintained expression slipping to just this side of pathetic--at least for a former hitokiri. But he'd worked hard all afternoon, and he was hungry. On top of that, he was a hungry _teenager_.

"Not covered in dust and blood you can't," Okami-san replied, already back in her brisk-mother-innkeeper mode; as such, she ordered even the feared Hitokiri Battousai about with impunity. "Really, Himura-han, you should know better than to wander about still bearing the marks of conflict."

Jolted, Kenshin looked down, mentally cursing himself for his lack of thought. There were still spatters of dried blood across his clothing--not a dripping bath of it, but enough to make it noticeable. And he'd just been prancing about the inn, child in hand! Such a slip was unforgivable in his line of work.

And Kenji, who looked up at his stony face with wide innocent eyes, was covered in dusty smudges--as well as a few suspiciously rusty stains on the front of his small yukata, where the still-damp blood from Kenshin's gi had brushed him.

Guilt twinged; a child had been smeared with the blood of men he had slain.

"Hai," he said at last, keeping his head low. "Sumanai...I've been distracted. We'll go bathe."

Okami-san smiled and, in a rare show of sympathy, patted the young man on the shoulder. "It's alright. I'll heat your dinner up for you while you're gone. And I'll have someone bring by the clean clothes for Kenji-chan."

"Arigato."

He ventured back out into the staring, whispering halls, where he felt the press of eyes like the points of a thousand swords. Kenji, though obviously tired, tagged obediently after him, clinging close. However sleepy he might have been, the little boy was obviously unwilling to let go of the one person in all this strange new world that was familiar.

After a quick trip up the stairs again to fetch fresh clothes for himself from his room, he and the child headed out the back of the Inn to the bathhouse.

Thankfully, it was unoccupied. Inside, Kenji finally consented to let go of his hand, trotting forward to stare around in awe. "Waaa, sugoi!" The little boy squeaked in delight. "_Big_ bath!"

Kenshin's lips quirked into half a smile. "Aa. Can you get your own clothes off?"

"Haaai!" And with that, Kenji cheerfully proceeded to strip. Kenshin took a more sedate pace, keeping an eye on the child to make sure the he didn't go caroming off and drown himself in the tub. How did he go from blinking and sleepy to such a state of genki bounciness anyway?

Within a few minutes, little Kenji was attempting to begin his own scrubbing, though not very successful at hefting any of the buckets. With a rare chuckle, Kenshin finished pulling off the last of his clothing and headed over to help him out. It couldn't be too hard to bathe a child, right?

But Kenshin quickly discovered that managing a soapy, slippery, wriggling little boy while trying to finish washing him was harder than it looked. Kenji was attempting to do washing-type things---more like he was just playing in the water bucket--while Kenshin struggled to hang on to him and scrub at the same time. It wasn't working; even _his_ hands weren't fast enough, it seemed--he'd need another pair of arms for this!

"Kenji, hold still--come on, at least let me _finish_--" Growing increasingly frustrated, the youth attempted to fence the boy in with his legs, but Kenji thought this was a marvelous new game and splashed at him with water from the bucket. Half wet, half dry, and now slightly sudsed, Kenshin bit his lip against a short-tempered curse and closed his eyes for a moment.

How in the world had Shishou put up with him when he was little?

Wait, check that--Shishou hadn't had to deal with the Terrible Twos. By the time Shinta had arrived on his mountain doorstep, he'd already learned how to behave.

_Deep breaths; he's just a child, he doesn't know any better... Okay, if I was my future self--**if** this kid is my future son--how would I handle this?_

When he opened his eyes, Kenji was using one of the washing cloths as an impromptu boat--or was it a sea dragon? It seemed rather submersible--in the washtub. And that's when Kenshin noticed that the little boy was _holding still_.

Blessed inspiration! Kenji would stay in one place if there was something for him to do!

_Now to get that scrubbing done..._ "Oi, Kenji," he said, going for a cheerful, cajoling tone--that probably would've frightened any of the patriots who heard it. It wasn't frighteningly _bad_--just...not his usual style. "Are you having fun?"

"Aa!" came the happy reply, while Kenshin scooted cautiously closer with the soap and washing cloths.

"Great. Hey, what's that you've got?" Kenshin was already scrubbing away on the remaining parts of Kenji, and there wasn't too much wriggling escape going on.

"Wash cloth," Kenji replied easily, taking the white cloth for another swirl in the bucket. "It's a boat."

"Oh? What kind of boat?"

"Fishing boat."

"You like fishing?"

"Un! We always go fishing!"

"We do, huh?" Finished washing the child--and highly grateful it was over--Kenshin dropped the soapy cloth. "Time for rinsing."

After a good douse, Kenshin let Kenji continue his game in the remaining bucket while he gave himself a quick scrubbing-down--probably the fastest he'd ever undertaken in his life. When he was done, he led the boy to the big warm tub for a good soak before they went to eat.

Kenshin ended up seating Kenji on his lap to keep the water from going over the tiny boy's head. Kenji continued to wriggle and squirm like a little eel, making it impossible for Kenshin to have a nice, quiet, mind-clearing soak. It was a constant battle to keep the child from escaping to drown himself in the large tub.

"Sit _still_, Kenji," the former hitokiri pleaded gruffly for what seemed the hundredth time in only a few minutes. "This is supposed to be relaxing."

Giggling at the splashes he was making, Kenji squirmed around to face the youth, a sharp little knee landing on Kenshin's thigh despite the buoyancy of the water. "It's fun!" the little boy insisted, churning waves with his hands. "Play, Touchan!"

"A bath isn't for playing," Kenshin retorted, frowning to close the matter.

Rebuffed, Kenji pouted and wriggled some more. "You _never_ play. Where's Kaachan?" he whined at length, sounding unhappy. "I'm hungry!

Kenshin's stomach growled its agreement; the young man fought off an urge to roll his eyes and sigh like a displeased child. "Fine. Let's go."

True to her word, Okami-san's worker had left clean children's clothing in a basket outside the bathhouse door. In making use of it, Kenshin discovered that it was also rather difficult to keep a hungry, tired, somewhat-cranky child still for dressing without ending up in more washtubs. His own clothes only _slightly_ moist around the edges, he tied his damp hair in a loose band at the nape of his neck and caught Kenji's hand to lead him back to the Inn.

He left his bloody clothes in the dirty laundry bin outside. For once, he didn't feel like hiding them and cleaning them himself. After the chore of washing a child, he just felt sick of washing in general.

At least there were fewer to stare in the halls, since most were gone to their rooms. The kitchen was also mostly empty when he arrived; only a couple of girls washing dishes remained.

Along with Okami-san and two plates of hot food.

_Yokatta...manna from Heaven,_ Kenshin thought with a half-weary, half-grateful sigh. "Arigato, Okami-san. I'm really starving now," he said with an astonished shake of his head. "I didn't know it was so hard to give a kid a bath."

Okami-san tittered and clucked, reaching out to pat Kenji's damp red head. "There now, I'm sure he was a perfectly good boy. Want to come with me, Kenji-chan? I'll get you set up for dinner."

Kenji regarded her for a moment, his face neutral. Under normal circumstances, his father wasn't his favorite person to be with, but at the moment there was no one else he knew. Okami-san was a nice lady but he didn't want to go with her; instead, he turned away and buried his face in Kenshin's hakama.

"Ara!" Okami-san laughed softly. "Someone's tired and shy. Here, Himura-chan, just lift him up to sit on the table right there and I'll get him a tray."

Within minutes, Kenji was sitting on the kitchen worktable with a small four-legged tray-table in front of him, happily munching away at dinner with both fingers and a pair of only somewhat clumsily-wielded child-size chopsticks. Kenshin took his meal standing at the tableside, watching with some chagrin as a portion of the food Kenji attempted to shovel into his mouth ended up on his face instead.

"You're a mess," he finally commented, amused at the sight of the brownish sauce all the way up to the little boy's nose.

Okami-san swooped in with a cloth, cleaning Kenji's face in one pass in a move as smooth as any swordsman's thrust. "That's little ones for you," she said, smiling at the boy, then at the youth.

"You're good at this," Kenshin observed, eyebrows lifting a bit.

"I did raise up three of my own," she told him. "A boy and two girls, all grown and married off now."

Kenshin glanced down at Kenji; the landlady caught his look and smiled her own knowing smile. "They need help with so many things when they're young," she said. "But they grow every day, it seems, doing so much more on their own with each month and each year. Until one day you realize they're all grown up, and they don't need you any more..." The older woman sighed wistfully. "At least now I have grandchildren to spoil," she went on, cheering. "And this little darling, for a while."

Kenji gave her a sweet smile in response to her attention, before polishing off the last of his vegetables. He was hungry enough not to complain about what was on his plate.

Kenshin, already done with his food, set his dishes down on the worktable and stepped back. "I'll be in my room for the evening," he announced coolly. "I trust you'll have a safe place to put him for the night."

Okami-san turned a surprised glance to him. "I-I suppose he can sleep in the servants' quarters with the girls, if that's what you..."

"Hai. Arigato, Okami-san." Kenshin turned to leave--but had hardly taken a step before a scuffle and a wail rose up behind him.

"Touchan! Don't go! _Don't go!_"

Kenshin whirled back around at Okami-san's gasp, starting in surprise as he saw that the woman had caught Kenji before the little boy could dive off the high table after him. The child's face had crumpled in an instant to tears, and fear of abandonment rose off him in waves.

Okami-san lifted the crying boy into her arms and patted his back, comforting. "There there...there now, it's okay..." As the sniffles began to subside, she turned a very pointed look at the redheaded youth. "I think he should sleep with you tonight, Himura-chan. At least until he settles in here."

Kenshin swallowed. "Aa...very well."

"Do you need any extra bedding?" she asked.

"I think I have enough," Kenshin replied. _I never sleep on the futon anyway._ The matron handed the little boy over to him, and the upset child put his small arms tightly around Kenshin's neck as the young swordsman held him, carrying him to the door of the kitchen.

"Sleep well Himura-chan, Kenji-chan," Okami said softly as he went.

His mind still churning, Kenshin did not reply.

There wasn't a soul in the halls on the way back to his room. Everything was quiet, the air filled with snores and mumbles and the sleepy ki of many men. Few were alert; those on night watch and those few who were more like him, who remained wary of hunter and hunted even at rest. Cradling Kenji in one arm, he slid back the door to his room, slipped inside, and closed it behind him all in one smooth motion.

The little boy was nearly asleep in his arms by the time he set him down on his small unsteady feet. "Bed," he yawned, clinging to Kenshin's hakama once more as the former hitokiri pulled out bedding that hadn't been used since the room's previous occupant. It had been aired regularly by the staff, however, so it wasn't musty. It was quite large enough for one tiny boy as well, and Kenji would be quite warm.

As soon as the child's head hit the pillow, he was nodding off. Kenshin pulled the blankets up close around his chin as he somehow remembered his mother doing, long ago in blurry faceless memories.

Sleepy eyes gave one last effort of wakefulness. "'Yas'mi, Touchan," the little boy mumbled. Then those tired eyes drifted shut, and the weary ki dimmed to sleep, peaceful as slow rippling water, utterly at ease. Kenshin remained where he was for a few moments, looking down at the face of the child, barely lit by the silvery light of the moon from the window.

_What am I doing?_ he wondered, face drawn to a frown more serious than many of his iciest masks. _This isn't my child or my job--I'm a hitokiri, not a babysitter...even **if** what Katsura-san said is true, I have no business keeping him with me..._

Doubt and confusion still turned like an uneasy tide in the young man's mind. Common sense and his own pride didn't want to believe Katsura's hypotheses--future son, gift from the gods, or something else entirely--but the light and the circumstances and the child himself made it hard _not_ to believe it. He didn't know what to think, what to believe.

He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with this.

At last, he left the side of the bed to take up his usual sleeping position, sitting up against the wall between the door and the child, taking a defensive location by habit. For a while, he gazed at the tiny form buried in blankets, listening to the soft, even rhythm of Kenji's breathing.

_He's not my son,_ he told himself firmly, ignoring the twinge in the bottom of his heart at the assertion. _Light or no light, just watch--tomorrow we'll ask around and someone will be missing him...or the door will come back and take him away..._

His thoughts uneasy still, and doubts pushing at him from the softer side of his conscience, Kenshin finallly nodded off into a fitful sleep.

_To be continued..._


	3. Future Interlude 1: Explanation

_**Disclaimer:** Himura Kenshin and all his friends (and various enemies) belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, who was wise and kind enough to create such an enjoyable series. Other original characters invented in this fic belong to me. But I'm still not getting any money out of this, so please don't sue._

**Rurouni Kenshin:   
The Reason **

Future Interlude 1: Explanation 

**15th year of Meiji   
Mid-Summer 1882 - Tokyo**

"...and...that's how he ended up with me." Kenshin finished his halting narrative with a faintly hopeful expression, his eyes tracing constantly to his near-catatonic young wife. The tale had come out with the swordsman varying between sheepish optimism and hopeful apology, with hints here and there of wistfulness and memory. 

Himura Kaoru, on the other hand, had gone from distraught shouting to abject shock, punctuated early on by disbelief but now silent with numb acceptance. Her eyes were faintly glassy with a rim of unshed tears and her face was as white as the sheets her husband cleaned, but her hands were clenched tight in her lap and she trembled faintly. 

Poor Kenshin wasn't sure if she was about to explode, or shatter. Either way, she would end up in pieces. 

Beside Kaoru sat Myojin Yahiko--intended for support, but by now he was also stuck in surprise and disbelief, so he wasn't much help. At least he wasn't ghost-pale and near to either fainting or screaming. 

And there sat Himura Kenshin, once the feared assassin of legend, offering them all a silly, apologetic smile and feeling most absurdly as though he were tied up before a firing squad. Standing atop the hangman's trapdoor. Waiting for the guillotine to fall. 

And fall it did. 

"...Kenshin..." The fear and uncertainty in Kaoru's soft quaver cut him like the executioner's blade. "You're telling me...Kenji...my baby...is..." 

"Hai de gozaru." Swallowing hard, he nodded once. "Gomen. I don't know how, but...that's what happened." 

"Whoa..." Yahiko, though quite the young man now, still had the look of a bewildered kid as he blinked wide eyes. "So this isn't a joke? The squirt is really gone? Dropped into the past somehow?" 

"Everything I've told you is as I remember," Kenshin replied, still watching his wife carefully. "I know where and when he is, and that he is safe. The only thing I don't know is when he will be back." 

Kaoru was still staring at him, and though he was glad to see the spark growing in the depths of her pupils, he dreaded what it would grow into. "But...our Kenji...he's stuck in the middle of a war," she said, her voice still small but gaining strength. "And...you just say he's safe? Something could happen--there was so much killing then, what if he--? Oh Kami-sama, the Shinsengumi too--how can he be safe? Kenshin, he's with--with..." 

His eyes fixed on her, deep and full of love and sorrows. "With me, Kaoru," he finished quietly. "He is--or was--with _me_." 

"Kenshin...I don't mean..." 

He saw her flinch, saw the contrition and indecision in her eyes, read it easily in her ki; she loved him, she trusted him, she would lay her life in his hands as she had many times before--as she trusted him with their son, as she knew he loved their child more than his own life. 

And yet, at the same time, there was that same old hurdle--suddenly, shockingly, brought to screaming life, and made a reality. 

There was the Hitokiri. The man he had been, and in some ways--many ways, he admitted--still was, inescapably. Kaoru trusted him as he was now, knew him, accepted him, loved him, but there was a part of him that she'd never quite been able to come around to. A part of him she'd never really known or understood, and because that part frightened her so he had long since made the decision to keep that part far from her sight and keep the face of the Rurouni she adored so. 

It rattled through her ki like an earthquake, and he knew what terrified her so--the thought of her beloved child not only lost in the bloody Bakumatsu, but in the keeping of Hitokiri Battousai himself. 

"Honest, Kenshin," Kaoru tried again, at his silence. "I wasn't saying that--" 

"I know," he replied gently. "I understand, Kaoru." 

As much as she loved, trusted, and accepted him as he was now, she feared the man he had once been. She feared the legend, the blood, and the amber-eyed monster she had seen in the dark. As if she believed that the Battousai who terrified her and the Kenshin who loved her were two different people, separated only by the thin veil of ten years wandering, and the things that Kenshin loved meant nothing to the Hitokiri. 

Because she'd heard the stories and the tales, because she'd seen the hard side, the violent side, the man he could be when his fury was aroused; that very same temper--fiery as his hair--that his Shishou had tried to beat out of him, that the Bakumatsu had helped enflame, that he spent ten years attempting to tame and his entire marriage trying to hide... 

Hitokiri or not, Kenshin recalled half-ruefully, amber eyes or not, he had not changed all that much. A decade ago he was a boy carving his place in the world, looking for purpose; today he was a man who had learned much of that world and found his purpose and his center. 

And his Kaoru didn't realize that even back then, just as now, Battousai was as much Kenshin as Kenshin was Battousai. 

"Kaoru, love," he said softly, evenly--startling them all, for Kenshin was not given to endearments in the hearing of others--reaching out to touch her tightly folded hands. "Our son is safe. Do you think I would let an innocent child come to harm?" 

He felt her hands twitch, but she shook her head slowly. "No...Kenshin, I know you. And...I-I'm sorry...this is just..." She shook her head again, more forcefully this time. "_Mou_...this is just so unbelievable! And my poor Kenji--!" 

"Then what happened, Kenshin?" Yahiko demanded, sitting up straighter. "I mean, with the squirt and your old boss and all." 

"Yes, do tell," Kaoru seconded, some of the old tanuki gleaming in her eyes; a mother's worry made her even more dangerous. "And you'd better say he made it home alright, Kenshin no baka, or I'll have your head." 

"Heh, _now_ Busu's on a warpath," Yahiko chuckled, managing not to giggle at the expression on the red-haired swordsman's face. "So tell us, Kenshin! The squirt stayed the night with you, and then what? Did he go back? Did you find him a babysitter? _What?_" 

"Maa, maa..." Kenshin went for his best Rurouni-apologetic-smile as he raised his hands placatingly. "Quiet down de gozaru yo, and I'll tell you about it." 

"Yosh'." Immediately, Yahiko settled in for the tale. 

"Kenshin," Kaoru interrupted, desperately earnest for a single moment. "Just...tell me he'll make it home okay. Please. Before you tell us anything else, just..." 

His eyes met hers, and he smiled--a sad, honest smile, equal parts shadow and light. "Hai, Kaoru. That I can promise. Kenji will come back to you--I made sure of that." 

She smiled in response and let out a breath of relief. "Alright. Arigato, anata..." 

"So tell us already!" Yahiko demanded, all but vibrating in anticipation. 

"Hai...yare yare..." Kenshin resettled himself and began another tale, his newly reassured audience once again hanging on every word. "Let me see...after the first evening, the night passed without incident. However, the very next morning..." 

_To be continued..._


	4. Part 2: I'm Sorry That I Hurt You

_**Disclaimer:** Himura Kenshin and all his friends (and various enemies) belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, who was wise and kind enough to create such an enjoyable series. Other original characters invented in this fic belong to me. But I'm still not getting any money out of this, so please don't sue._

**Rurouni Kenshin:  
The Reason **

Part 2: I'm Sorry That I Hurt You

**3rd year of Keiou  
Early Spring 1867 - Kyoto**

Okita Soushi didn't even reach for his sword when the door to his quarters slid back and someone stepped in. There was only one person amongst the Shinsengumi who would dare to simply walk into his room like this--and anyone who was not of the Shinsengumi would not be coming in through the door.

"Ohaiyo, Saito-san. You're here early, ne?"

"We've had another incident," Saito Hajime replied, not bothering with pleasantries. "Six men, perfect kills, no blood on their swords. And no captures."

"So, Red's been busy again last night, hm?" Okita turned from his calming observation of the city at dawn. "And another band of rebels has slipped through our nets, thanks to him."

The tall, lean-faced Shinsengumi captain snorted in disgust. "The patrol tried to take him on alone, without support. If they were that foolish, they deserve to be dead."

"Hai, hai," Okita sighed, leaning back against his windowsill. "But still, we do have a job to do, and the more of our men get killed the harder it is to get that done. So perhaps you could show a little consideration?"

Saito sneered. "I just want to see that red-haired demon spitted on the sharp end of my Gatotsu. Without him, the Ishin rebels would crumble."

"Sou da na..." Okita shrugged. "Well, that'll only happen if we happen to be _in_ the patrol that catches up with him. And our spies are being flushed out almost daily now--they've really tightened their security these last two years. So we haven't tracked his specific movements for over eighteen months now--no telling where he's hiding."

With gritted teeth, the intense Captain of the Third Squad paced the width of the room twice. "This is the fourth loss in a week. It can't continue like this. We have to run that little bastard down and corner him so that he can't disappear into shadows." Saito recovered some of his level composure and snorted again. "It's his most annoying habit--disappearing before the duel is decided."

"He _is_--or _was_--a hitokiri," Okita replied with a smiling shrug--as he usually did. "Fight and flee is his first instinct, I suppose..."

"And you'd know all about that," Saito needled with a cold half-grin. "Since he's run away from you the most."

For a moment, Okita's eternal cheer flickered into irritation. Then his smile returned again. "Sou ka! Well, that must mean he fears me the most out of us, ne?"

For a few moments, they shared a brief chuckle of laughter before Saito returned to his stern frown.

"We need to change the patrols again. Make them more frequent, and more random. I don't care if we have the troop leaders sit down and draft up a new schedule every morning, but we've got to catch those Ishin off guard."

"Hai, hai...I'll make sure to bring that up at our meeting this afternoon." Okita smiled again. "You worry too much, Saito-san--just trust in our justice. We'll catch him."

Already on his way out, Saito glanced back once. "Yes," he growled, with a hint of a wolf's fanged grin, "_I will_."

* * *

As a former hitokiri and swordsman of the Ishinshishi, Himura Kenshin was quite used to keeping odd hours. Sometimes sleeping all day to work all night, or waking up at midnight to work until noon, or working all afternoon and late into the evening and sleeping in nice and long to make up for it. Like he wanted to do today.

Kenji, however, had other plans.

"Touchan," came the incessant little voice, small hands nudging his shoulder. "Touchan, okite!"

Of course, he'd been awake since Kenji had stirred, the small brightening ki alerting him to the other in his room. But he wasn't quite open-eyed and _moving_ yet, and he would much rather have just drifted back into sleep. He didn't have to work today--not yet, as far as he knew--and he was still tired.

"_Tou_chan!" Kenji's voice grew more plaintive, drawing out the syllables into a half-whine that drove right into his ears. "Wake up!"

With a disgruntled growl, the former hitokiri raised his head to direct a suitably frightening glare at the child--one that had sent many interlopers scrambling from his room when they had interrupted his sleep. It was probably a little more harsh than the boy deserved, given the urgent look on his face, but Kenshin grumbled anyway. "Nan da yo?"

"I gotta go potty."

Kenshin stared at the furiously frowning toddler for a full beat before placing his forehead into his hand, somewhere between feeling irritated and feeling foolish. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a few moments before speaking again. "Hai...alright..."

A glance out the window told him that it couldn't have been very long since dawn; the light was still gray and he could sense only a few people awake. With an semi-audible groan, he rose, bringing his katana down from his shoulder and snatching his wakizashi from its place on the floor beside him, tucking both into his belt before rubbing at one eye with his free hand.

Feeling marginally ready to face humanity--though still preferring to go back to sleep for a few more hours--he headed out the door, Kenji scuttling to take his usual place at Kenshin's side, small hand clutching sword-calloused fingers. Blinking away sleep, Kenshin headed downstairs on a path for the toilet house outside, nodding vaguely to Sakura-san's pleasant "Ohaiyo gozaimasu!" on her way in with well water.

"Can you go by yourself?" he asked once he and the boy reached the outhouse, dearly hoping this wouldn't be another one of those things.

To his good fortune, Kenji nodded brightly, so Kenshin let him proceed into the hut alone, with only a stern warning to finish his business and come right back out without dawdling. The young swordsman took up position by the door, fighting off a yawn as his eyes scanned the clean yard and the rear of the expansive Inn.

None of the lazy soldiers were up yet; just a couple of the captains and Katsura-san, their kis all clustered in the dining hall. There was Midori-san by the bathhouse heating up the water for early bathers, and Sakura-san coming out for another bucket of water, and Kojiro-san chopping wood for the fires. Okami-san and the cook would probably be in the kitchen by now, preparing breakfast for the many hungry men hosted by the Inn. It was still very early, the sky lightly overcast so that the morning sun shone gray and cool.

That yawn finally escaped him as he stood there, leaning on the rough wooden wall, arms folded against a faint shiver at the colder temperature outside. He caught the faint titter of Sakura-san's giggles as she headed back inside, and he wondered whether or not he should care that she had caught the Ishinshishi's prime swordsman mid-yawn and probably looking like a sleepy kid.

He decided he wouldn't bother, after beginning to wonder what was taking Kenji so long. He was just about to go in and see what was up when the door was pushed open and a little red head poked out.

"All done!" Kenji chimed happily.

"You didn't make a mess, did you?" Kenshin asked, with a half-suspicious glance beyond the boy at the interior of the hut.

"Nope!" Kenji held up his hands. "No mess. I can do it."

"Good," the swordsman replied honestly--and gratefully--steering the child back inside to wash his hands. There was a convenient scrubbing basin inside the back door, and Kenshin lifted the little boy up to give him access and make certain he used it. After a good washing, they were on their way back in--and Kenshin was fully intent on heading back to his room for another hour or two of sleep.

But again, Kenji had other plans. He tugged on Kenshin's hand and pulled them both to a stop, looking plaintive once more. "I'm hungry," he announced frankly, turning wide, innocent, pleading eyes upwards. "Time for breakfast?"

Kenshin stood there for a moment, giving a deep sigh. He likely wasn't going to get any sleep with Kenji complaining, so he might as well feed him now and get it over with. "Okay, okay...we'll go see Okami-san."

Kenji--who had apparently gotten enough sleep to be depressingly energetic--hop-skipped at his side all the way to the kitchen, bare feet pattering on the floor. More and more people were stirring out of bed, especially the staff, so there were quite a few to peer at them on the way.

"Ohaiyo, Okami-san," Kenshin announced around another yawn as he stepped into the bustling kitchen, deftly sidestepping a fast-moving serving girl with an armload of clean plates.

"Good morning to you too, Himura-han!" Okami-san called from across the room, smiling at him while she supervised the action at the stove. He was one of the few who was allowed into her back rooms, since she had practically adopted him as a son/nephew, so he wasn't shooed out of the kitchen on the business end of a wooden spoon. "And how's our little guest this morning?"

"Genki," Kenshin replied ruefully, making his way around the worktable with bouncing boy in tow.

"Ohaiyooo, Okami-san! Breakfast time!"

"...and hungry," Kenshin added, as Okami-san laughed.

"Good timing," the matron replied, pausing to send a girl with two trays on her way. "Breakfast will be served shortly--you can wait in the dining area with the men."

"I was hoping to just grab something and head back to sleep..." he tried hopefully.

"Goodness, I don't have time to take aside an individual meal!" Okami-san huffed. "I'm sorry, Himura-han--we're bringing the food out in minutes, so it won't be too long."

"Hai..." Kenshin almost visibly wilted, turning to make his way back out to the main eating area. So much for getting more sleep.

Not to mention he would be sitting in to breakfast with all the Ishinshishi soldiers gathered here--bringing a kid along for the ride. Not only was it not usually done, but it would be embarrassing, too.

"Yare yare..." he sighed at last, resigning himself to his fate. "I've been through worse and lived."

Predictably, most of the morning din hushed as he approached the doors to the large eating room. The stragglers hanging about the entrance pulled back to give him a wide berth, most of the eyes straying from his own slim, frigid form to the tiny red-haired boy beside him. He stepped inside the door, stilling most of the conversation within; all but Katsura and the captains and a few of the men who had known him longer.

Instead of waiting around, Kenshin picked a spot nearer the door, in an empty corner, and sat down without a word. Suddenly solemn at the presence of so many imposing, sword-bearing men, Kenji had grown quiet and plunked himself at Kenshin's side, huddling close to his elbow.

Kenshin didn't look at anyone, just remained still and closed his eyes. A few of the stares that prickled in his direction for too long were given an icy glance that quickly redirected them, but for the most part the other men studiously kept to their own business.

Finally, a familiar ki approached more closely than the others. Kenshin looked up to see one of his few friends amongst the current troop, Hamano Akira, a smooth-faced young samurai a handful of years older than himself with sword skills that Kenshin would call quite decent indeed, by comparison.

"Hamano," he greeted with one of his typically small, grim smiles.

"Himura," the samurai nodded back, taking a slightly longer glance at the little boy before sitting down on Kenshin's other side. "So. The rumors are flying all over the Inn."

Kenshin shot another glare at yet another curious stare from across the room. "So I've gathered."

Hamano leaned over a little. "Hey, some of us want to know the truth, instead of the scuttlebutt."

"The rumors you're getting are probably the truth anyway," Kenshin told him, the slightest of wry curls to his lips.

"Come on, Himura," the older samurai wheedled. "Takagi and me and the others--the ones who're your _friends_, ahou--we want to know what's really going on. Men saw you two come in last night and a whole wildfire started up--everything from kidnapping to some courtesan you've been fooling with finally dumped the kid on you."

Kenshin's teeth clenched. "I guess the rumors aren't getting it right after all," he bit out, wondering who he should throttle for starting up _those_ ideas.

"See?" Hamano scolded. "Some of us care. So what's going on? Is that really your kid?"

"Hai."

The samurai blinked. "Oh. Whoa. Y'know..." he chuckled sheepishly, "...I was half-expecting you to deny it."

"Naze?"

"Well, because you...I mean, you're not...er, I didn't..." Suddenly awkward, Hamano scratched the back of his neck, his voice dropping to a serious timbre, quieter. "Heck. None of us ever saw you as the sort to have kids in the first place, much less so young..."

"What difference does that make?" Kenshin hissed, suddenly realizing that his age would be awkward to explain. Kenji had to be two years old, at least--probably more--and if he were too old it would look...odd to anyone who questioned. Kenshin himself was not yet even eighteen.

"Oi, oi, take it easy!" Hamano backed off with a placating gesture. "I didn't mean anything by it. Honest."

Kenshin let out a breath. "Gomen, Hamano. I...I've had a lot on my mind lately."

"No joke..."

Kenji, meanwhile, had peered around Kenshin's body to regard this tall, friendly samurai and was watching him with shy interest. Hamano noticed the little face peeking from behind Kenshin's gi sleeve and grinned at the boy, making him disappear into hiding again.

Hamano chuckled. "He's cute. Looks just like you."

"Arigato." Kenshin cocked an eyebrow wryly at his friend.

"Uh, not to say that _you're_ cute, Himura..." Hamano floundered for a second, remembering the small samurai's sensitivity about his...delicate features. "I mean..._he's_ cute, like a little kid is cute, but he's got your hair and all..."

Kenshin snorted in amusement. "Relax, Hamano. I won't behead you before breakfast."

Relieved, the tall man grinned. "Good, then I'll have an entire meal to plan a proper funeral."

And with that, breakfast arrived. Several tray-bearing serving girls swept in, led by Okami-san, and proceeded to lay out the small tray-tables the men ate off of, beginning with Katsura-san and the higher-ranking patriots, then around the room to the random soldiers arrayed in a loose circle. Kenshin shared his tray with Kenji, having been singled out by a smiling Sakura-san with a tray that Okami-san had prepared especially for him, with extra portions and an additional pair of small chopsticks.

She had also sent along two extra cloth napkins--and a message via the giggling Sakura-san that he shouldn't let Kenji-chan make a mess in the dining hall.

The arrival of food distracted the men somewhat, making it easier for Kenshin to ride herd on his small charge _and_ get some food into himself without drawing too many stares. These hardened soldiers were emphatically _not_ used to seeing their vaunted Battousai shepherding a small child through a meal, trying to keep him clean with marginal success. Hamano only chuckled at him twice, as his quick hands darted to catch some dropped bit of pickle or rice.

By the time the meal was finished, Kenshin was somewhere between frustrated and just plain tired. Kenji needed constant watching to ensure that breakfast time did not become game time, especially not in front of all of these men, Kenshin's peers. At least the dropped food was at a minimum--just a few grains of rice, a pickle, and a piece of carrot--and there were no obvious stains on either his sleeve or Kenji's yukata.

Kenji was already heading for his feet and ready to go when the serving girl came by to pick up their trays. Kenshin snagged a cloth to wipe off the little boy's hands and face, removing the last of the meal's remainders, being watched all the while by his incredulous friend.

"I'm impressed, Himura Battousai," Hamano said at last, gathering up his swords. "You're better at that domestic stuff than I ever thought."

Kenshin blinked at him. Domestic stuff? Women's work? That was the last thing he needed to hear--especially with the babysitting he'd had to do last night and this morning.

"Well, I've got a planning meeting to attend," the samurai announced, rising up. Kenji darted around behind Kenshin to cling to his shoulders as the imposing man loomed over them both, eliciting yet another laugh. "I'll see you two around."

With a wink at Kenji, the older man went on his way, disappearing into the trickling straggle of men heading out of the hall.

Kenshin heaved another sigh and pushed to his feet, gathering his own swords. Letting Kenji cling to his sleeve, he decided to head for his room before anything else happened. Hopefully, Okami-san or one of the girls could watch Kenji for a couple of hours...

He stopped before he even entered the kitchen door. The bedlam and the harried kis inside informed him that the staff was much too busy with after-meal cleanup to babysit. It took as much work to run an Inn as it did to look after a child...

_Today is **not** my day._ Feeling defeated, Kenshin sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time and turned toward the back hall.

"Where we going?" Kenji asked, as they left the noisier portions of the halls behind.

"Outside," Kenshin replied simply.

The little boy smiled brightly. "Out to play?"

"You can play if you want."

"Touchan, play with me?"

"Play by yourself," Kenshin told him as they stepped out into the morning sun. "I'm tired."

"But why?" the child wheedled.

"Because I worked last night."

"Why?"

"Because it's my job to work when Katsura-san tells me to."

"Why?"

_Oh, I am so not getting into this..._ Kenshin glanced down at the wide curious eyes and gave the boy a look. At least he knew the child was just being a child, not asking pointed questions that Kenshin didn't want to answer. One thing he _did_ know from experience was that little kids like this could go round and round and round with the word "Why?"

"You can play here," Kenshin informed the boy, leading him out to one of the leafy trees by the more open side of the yard, across from the bathhouse and toilet. "Do what you like," he said with a shrug, sitting down against the tree. "But you must stay in this yard, and don't go around to the front. And don't get in anyone's way."

Kenji just looked at him, seeming faintly disappointed as he glanced around the yard. "Wanna go home...Kaachan..."

"Oi. Your mother isn't here, so you have to do what I say. Don't go anywhere but this yard. Do you understand?" He reached out and touched the boy's cheek, bringing his attention back around. "Hear me?"

"Un," Kenji nodded reluctantly. "Play here in the yard."

"Good. Now off you go." Kenshin dismissed the child with a nudge, sending him skipping off toward the bushes along the back wall. There was only one gate there, and the latch was too tall for Kenji to reach. Kenshin sat back against the tree trunk, his sword tucked against his shoulder and his wakizashi at his side, rather pleased with his little plan. Kenji could play happily outdoors and entertain himself, and Kenshin could get some decent shut-eye for a bit.

He breathed deeply the morning air, listened to the patter of childish bare feet and the soft twittering of birds, and began to doze off. Normally he wouldn't even _think_ of sleeping outside, but things had been at a lull lately and he figured an alert cat-nap would not allow any to catch him off-guard.

Not to mention he was weary enough to just not care if he got shot by some daring ninja at the moment...

He had nearly drifted off when a sharp _whack!_ jerked him awake like a rope. Startled, his eyes tracked the sound--and found Kenji playing with a fallen stick of bamboo from the little grove at the back wall, using it as an impromptu bokken while apparently playing Super Killer Samurai.

The little boy's target was one of the smaller cherry trees in the yard, just a handful of strides away from where Kenshin sat. Half amused, Kenshin observed this activity for a short while as his heart rate calmed down; sudden loud noises without the foreshadowing of aggressive attacking ki always got his adrenaline going, since they came without warning.

Kenji had a strong ki, though--strong, and focused for a young child. The boy raised his stick again to thwack it against the tree once more, and Kenshin caught the faint edges of a trained stance in the boy's posture. Either someone was training this toddler in kenjutsu--unlikely--or he was a very good mimic and would be a natural prodigy in swordsmanship someday.

_Then again, if he's really my son..._ said that nagging little voice down in his chest in a tone that wanted to be pride, before he firmly squashed it.

Kenshin was about to turn away again when Kenji changed his approach to the tree. Instead of a planted attack, the little one stepped back, then leaped at the tree in a downward, crosswise blow that made Kenshin blink.

_Is he trying to...?_

Kenji stared at the tree he'd accosted, face set in a childish scowl. Then he dropped his "sword," apparently giving up, and headed for the well at a fast clip. Kenshin was momentarily concerned, but remembered that the well had a sturdy, heavy cover on it and that the child would be in no danger.

He was just about to doze off again when a heavy _clunk!_ brought him around. Almost growling now, Kenshin looked over to find Kenji standing with his bamboo "sword" atop an upturned wooden washbasin that he had dragged over beside the tree. Apparently he'd decided he needed more height to attack.

Another flying leap, this time from the top of the washbasin, flimsy weapon wielded one-handed, small voice raised in a loud shout. "_Rususen!_"

Kenshin almost swallowed his tongue, staring openly now. _He's...going for a Ryu Tsui Sen! Has he actually **seen**...?_

_If he is my son, he may have seen me in battle..._ Once more, Kenshin clamped down on that still small voice.

Now, Kenji was peering at the tree as if examining it for damage--possibly disappointed that his kiddy version of that strong attack had yielded nothing but perhaps some chipped bark. Instead of climbing up on the tub again, the little boy began to attack the tree freestyle once more, laughing to himself about stopping "evil bad men" and "saving innocents."

_You have to wonder who taught him **that**,_ said that little voice again, wryly. Kenshin squashed it.

To his continued surprise, Kenji crouched down and performed a sloppy version of a battou-jutsu attack that Kenshin knew very well--the one that had given him his nickname. It was unbalanced and agonizingly off-target, but the speed and force were such that Kenji spun himself around with the momentum of it, giggling at the dizzy turn.

That boy would be a swordsman one day, Kenshin decided, settling back down against the tree with an unwilling shadow of a smile on his face. A very great one, with incredible talents--he was a natural, able to mimic those around him even at this young age. He would be a wonderful pupil someday...

_And who will teach him?_ the voice demanded, and this time Kenshin was too sleepy to stomp on the words of his own conscience, his own heart. _In the world I am fighting this war to create--the very world he may come from--the killing sword will no longer be needed. But the sword to save the innocent will **always** be needed--and this child may be the one who is called to wield it. And someone must show him how... _

Will I?

His thoughts deep within once again, Kenshin began to nod off at last, content to doze while half-listening to the sounds of a little boy at play. He only watched out of the corner of his eye, but then his eyes drifted shut; his vision faded just as he registered the little boy performing a clumsy but surprisingly fast battou-jutsu move with the wrong foot forward...

* * *

The first thing he became aware of was the silence. Or perhaps it was more correct to say that the silence woke him--the silence and the absence of anyone nearby. There was a wrongness to it that pinged on his radar and brought him out of sleep. Something was absent--the sounds of small feet, of panting little breaths, of babbling words and soft laughter and a happy playful ki...

Kenshin raised his head with a single sleepy blink, baffled for a few moments, scanning the yard and the nearby Inn porch for whatever was amiss--whatever had nudged him from his doze. There was no danger nearby, only a sense that something was missing--

_Kenji!_

A gasp was torn from his chest as a hot flash of alarm and dismay brought him fully awake and to his feet in an instant. And on the tail of that instant he was dashing for the Inn, fighting back sudden unfamiliar panic. Had the boy wandered inside--or worse, out to the front, or even out the gate...? All his senses were already reaching out, automatically seeking--

--a small bright ki not very far away at all. And it was coming closer. _Very_ close.

Kenshin screeched to a halt in the middle of the Inn's back doorway, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with a very small red-headed form bearing a tray and followed by the startled-looking matron of the Inn. His hands braced on the doorframe to assist his braking, the young swordsman stared first at the child, then at the woman, his breathing slightly faster than normal as his pounding heart began to subside.

"Touchan!" Kenji squeaked in surprise, as Okami-san took a second to calm her own racing heart at the youth's sudden appearance.

"Himura-chan, is something the matter?" she asked, concerned at the brief wild look that had been in his eyes.

Kenshin glanced at her. "He was gone...I thought..." Trailing off, the young man took a deep breath, let go of the doorjamb, and stepped back out of her way. "Gomen, I didn't mean to startle you."

Okami-san smiled, as she and Kenji stepped outside after him. "Don't worry about it, Himura-chan. I was a bit startled myself when this little one came wandering into my kitchen unattended." She looked down at the grinning boy. "But he said you were sleeping, so we thought it best not to wake you. We made you lunch instead."

"I helped!" Kenji piped up.

Kenshin blinked at them. "Lunch...? How long was I asleep?" Suddenly dismayed, he glanced toward the sky and found the sun much higher than he'd anticipated.

"A _long_ time, Touchan," Kenji replied scoldingly. "I was lonely."

"It's been a few hours." Okami-san led Kenji around to the Inn's porch, where she directed him to set down the small tray he carried, upon which sat a small plate of fish. Okami-san herself set down the two bowls of rice in her hands. "I thought you could use the rest, since you've been working so many nights this week. But you've terrified half the men, breaking pattern by sleeping in the open--and now they all think the sky is falling or some such."

Seating himself on the porch beside the tray, Kenshin ducked his head. "Sorry. I thought I could take a short nap while Kenji played--I didn't mean to bother everyone."

Okami-san just laughed, lifting Kenji onto the porch as well to seat him where he could eat. "It's not a bother, Himura-chan! Goodness, you work harder than almost every man here, and have been through so much--you deserve some time to yourself to rest." She fixed him with a motherly look. "You _can_ ask one of us to keep an eye on Kenji-chan when you need a break."

"Arigato...but you were just so busy this morning, I didn't want to interfere..."

"Ask next time, you silly," Okami-chan scolded with a laugh. "I was more worried that Kenji-chan was wandering around the halls unsupervised. At his age, he can't always judge who and what is unsafe."

"Hai..." Chastized, Kenshin ducked his head and glanced down at the child, who was already digging into one of the small bowls of rice on the tray. It was a simple meal; just rice and fish, without frills. "I know...I keep forgetting he's so young, since he talks so well for a two-year-old..."

"He's older than that," Okami-san observed, smiling again at the little boy who was eating fairly neatly, listening to them talk about him. "He does speak very well, he holds his chopsticks properly, and he can go to the toilet on his own, among other things. He's three years old if he's a day, Himura-chan. He's just tiny."

Kenshin raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Okami gave him a slightly apologetic smile. "It's only logical. I don't mean to offend, but you're just not very large for your age either..."

"It's alright," Kenshin sighed, giving the matter a shrug and reaching for the second bowl of rice. _My growing years are nearly over, and I'm still barely as tall as a woman. Not to mention pretty as one, as many are so fond of pointing out. It's going to haunt me for the rest of my life..._ "By now I guess I've resigned myself to my fate," he added, shoving his self-pitying thoughts aside with a wry half-smile.

"Oh, you..." Okami-san gave him an affectionate smile and reached over to ruffle his messy hair. "It's not your size that counts, Himura-chan, it's your heart. You'll be fine." After looking him and the little boy over one last time, she took a deep breath and stepped back. "Well, I've got to get back inside--we'll be starting to cook the mens' lunches soon, so I've got to make sure Yumiko gets things right..."

With a nod she took her leave--leaving Kenshin once more sitting face to face with a certain redheaded child. Kenshin was finishing up his rice and Kenji had started on a fish, so for a few moments they sat and eyed one another--Kenshin less obviously, Kenji more so.

After a while, the silence was broken. "Why'd you take off earlier?" Kenshin asked at last, somewhat miffed that his instructions had been disregarded.

Kenji blinked at his tone, cocking his head.

"You left the yard," Kenshin clarified, pointing his chopsticks accusingly. "You went inside and you didn't tell me."

"Got _lonely_," Kenji said, thrusting out a pouting lip around half a mouthful of fish. "I was--"

"Swallow first."

Kenji wrinkled his nose defiantly, but did. "Was lookin' for Kaachan," the tiny boy grumbled.

"Your mother isn't here," Kenshin told him sternly. "You won't find her no matter where you look."

The child's face crinkled with upset and anger. "But I want Kaachan! I wanna go home!"

Kenshin himself was equally as frustrated as the boy, but he was not allowed the option of a temper tantrum. "I know that, but you can't! You're just going to have to--"

To the young swordsman's shock and ire, the scowling little boy reached out, took a firm grasp of the nearest lock of his hair, and yanked. "Touchan daisuki_nai!_"

"Ite! Oi! Let go!" Kenshin snapped, slamming down his empty rice bowl to bat the offending little hand away. "What do you think you're doing?"

Angered and strangely stung, he glared down at the furiously frowning child, who was glaring back at him with watery eyes and the beginnings of a trembling lip. Childish rage warred with creeping uncertainty in the small bright ki, accompanied by loneliness and fear of the unknown.

Kenji wasn't getting the reaction he'd expected. Usually a good hair-tug and a noisy pout was enough to make Touchan either give in or retreat from his presence altogether--but Touchan was not relenting; he was angry instead, giving an accusing glare.

It was one thing to cling to Touchan's leg in a strange place, where Touchan was a safe island. But he was tired of this place and wanted to see his favorite person again, and Touchan wasn't doing what Kenji wanted him to do!

There was nothing soft about Touchan any more. His ire was heavy and sharp, and his eyes were hot and angry. He had never been like this before. Kenji's own anger was fading out, to be replaced by doubt and resentment and fear.

"Touchan...kowai...." Meal forgotten, the tears began to fall.

The boy's quavering little words cut through Kenshin's flash of temper like the finest edge of his own katana, shooting a stab of guilt into his shell. He watched the tide change from furious hellion to pitiful child, and somewhere inside his own anger was surprised at the extremes of sudden change--especially when it was his own snappish irritation that had dimmed the light in those once-bright blue-violet eyes.

His ire was melted by the small sniffling tears; at a loss, Kenshin stared at the downcast little face, mouth working as he fought for something to say. For too long, his throat was tight, and no words came--as his heart pattered frantically in search of something that could stop the hurt for both of them.

There were two ways he could deal with this--he could walk away from this emotional entanglement...or he could try to fix it.

He decided he wasn't going to back down.

"Kenji..." he tried, hoping his voice didn't really sound that creaky and high-pitched. "Kenji...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell..."

"I want Kaachan..." the little boy sniffled. "...want Kaachan..."

"I-I know, but she's not here..."

"...go _find_ Kaachan..."

"You can't find her." Kenshin nearly winced at his expression. "I'm sorry, Kenji...you can't be with your mother right now. I know...I know you miss her, but..." How could he explain that he had no idea where Kenji's mother was, or _who_ she was, or even how old she might be now?

Following his gut, Kenshin shoved the food tray aside and moved closer to the little boy, reaching out to touch the small quivering shoulders. "Oi..." he prodded clumsily, attempting to get the tearful eyes to turn up to his. "Aren't I..." He swallowed hard. "Aren't I Touchan? Can't you stay with me?"

"...like Kaachan better..."

Kenji's head dropped again, but he allowed himself to be pulled closer as Kenshin put an awkward arm around him. "Sou ka...demo...you didn't...really mean that before, did you?" the youth said softly, almost into the child's messy hair, with a nudging squeeze. "Kanashii...don't you like me too? Even a little?"

With a sniffle, the shaggy little head nodded against his shirt, one small hand grasping at a loose wrinkle of the fabric to hold tightly. Kenji didn't really hate his father--not really...he wanted to be with his mother and to play with his father and so much of what he felt was far too complex for his young mind to grasp or his small vocabulary describe.

"Touchan daisuki...hontou ni daisuki...gomen...gomen..."

"Iie...it's okay..." Kenshin fought back a sigh of inexplicable relief, running a brief clumsy hand over the child's head in a ruffling pat, a boyish attempt at comfort. "You just stay here with me for a little while, alright? And maybe soon..."

At last, tearful yet hopeful eyes turned up to him. "Find Kaachan maybe?"

Kenshin attempted a reassuring smile--thought it wasn't a very large one. "Maybe. I'll try--I promise. In the meantime, let's be friends, okay?"

"Aa," Kenji answered, with a tiny hint of a giggle at the idea of being "friends" with Touchan.

"That's better." The brightening face--as well as the brightening ki--made it impossible for Kenshin not to smile; a small, hesitant, genuine smile that encompassed all the gratitude and relief he would not express. "You can play here all you want, if you're good. And if you're hungry, you already know where the kitchen is..."

Kenji nodded. "Okami-san!"

"That's right," Kenshin chuckled. "So...are you going to eat the rest of your fish?"

"Fish!" The little boy looked down in surprise, as if he'd forgotten it was there. Kenshin pulled the tray back again as he fought off another quirk of a smile; fetching chopsticks once more, the two of them went back to eating in earnest.

"Oh...new rule," Kenshin spoke up, after a few moments of thoughtful chewing. "If you pull my hair, I pull yours."

Kenji blinked up at him with utter innocence, cocking his head.

The young swordsman snorted his opinion of that display. "You understand perfectly well, and I know you do." Reaching over, he tugged ever-so-gently on one of the little boy's tangled locks of hair. "See? You'll get a yank much worse than that if you pull my hair. And I mean it, too."

"Haaai," Kenji giggled, leaving Kenshin not entirely convinced of his sincerity.

"I'm serious," Kenshin warned, just to make sure, wagging his chopsticks at the boy. "Hair-pulling is mean. Nice boys don't do that."

Kenji smiled blindingly--a little less than impressive, given his current mouthful--so Kenshin subsided, still a bit skeptical as to whether or not he was getting through.

When the food was finally gone and the tray pushed away for the last time, Kenshin remained where he was, resting against one of the porch posts and staring into nothing, his bare feet dangling onto the soft smooth dirt below. How long had it been since he'd traced patterns in the dust with his bare toes? It had to be years...not since he'd been with Shishou, when he was carefree...

Kenji sat beside him, uncharacteristically reserved, watching him with a slightly odd look as the little boy attempted to emulate his actions--but his short legs could not reach the ground from his seat. He was observing Kenshin quite openly, almost carefully, as if trying to puzzle out something.

"Nani?" Kenshin asked quietly at length, raising an eyebrow lazily.

"Touchan's different," the tiny boy said solemnly, thoughtfully. "Talks different. Eyes different. Smiles different."

"You just noticed." Kenshin's mouth curved again, wryly, before his gaze passed back to the yard. He enjoyed the silence, ignoring Kenji's curiosity prickling at him; let the boy stare if he wanted to. His gaze wasn't like that of most of the soldiers, which often contained subtle undercurrents ranging from the fearful to the disheartening to the sickening.

He started only a little when a small hand touched him--reaching for his hair again, but gently this time, seeking some of the flaming locks that fell across his arm. He hadn't bothered to tie it up properly this morning, being too...preoccupied, and the low, loose ponytail allowed escaping strands to spill over his shoulder. Little fingers touched, ever so carefully, fingering a bit of the scarlet mass before drawing back.

"Taregami," Kenji commented seriously, considering. "Touchan gots long hair now."

"Sou ka..." Kenshin eyed the little boy. "It's another different thing, na?"

"Aa..." Kenji reached out again, petting at the conveniently-positioned hair. "Yawarakai... Longer than Kaachan's. I like it." He glanced back up at Kenshin, his small feet swinging over the edge of the porch as his face brightened into a smile. "Kirei."

Not quite sure how to take that, Kenshin sat still, undecided whether to pull away or to acknowledge. He'd been accused of beauty before--usually in the form of insults, for his delicate stature and near-feminine looks, or the occasional stranger who wanted to attract the attention of a "pretty" man who was more a novelty than an object of love. But his outward appearance had little to do with his inner bloodstains.

Kenji's simple statement was, however, just _that_--no matter what Kenshin thought of himself--a simple truth, as the child saw it.

In the end, Kenshin just shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "Aren't you going to go play?"

Kenji shrugged with typical childish indifference, still eyeing Kenshin in that strange, thoughtful way. But at least his ki had settled once more to contentment, if slightly hesitant; though it bore a new note of curiosity and attachment. Giving a mental shrug of his own at the complexities of children's minds, Kenshin went back to staring out at the yard, concentrating on keeping his own mind blank of bitter memories and focused on the here and now.

Kenji had been a tidy distraction, at the very least. He hadn't had much time to dwell on past shadows since the little boy had arrived, what with the harried previous evening deciding what to do with him, and this current somewhat-frazzled morning. He'd been weary enough this morning that his nap--however unintentionally long--had been completely dreamless, sitting there in the shade-dappled morning sun. His thoughts hadn't even touched on Tomoe since...

He hadn't even had her face come to mind since last night, sometime before dinner.

Kami-sama, did that mean he was just forgetting about her? He cursed himself silently, closing his eyes to the midday light, for so easily forgetting the very reason he had sworn to end this horrible war--so that he could stop killing, stop piling sin after sin atop her grave, atop his own already too-bloodstained soul, and finally begin to atone for the innumerable lives he'd taken. To atone for _her_ death, at his own bloodthirsty hands...

Even if it had not been his intent--never, _ever_ had he meant to harm her--his own rage and thoughtlessness and careless killing sword had cut her down as easily as a hundred other men he'd slain. She had managed to forgive him and his murderous ways, even managed to come to care for him, had helped him so much to soothe the disillusioned, frustrated, lonely youth and the haunted, frightened, angry hitokiri he'd become...and he'd repaid her with blood twice over--the death of the one she loved, and her own.

And here he was, forgetting her, disregarding her memory because of the antics of one silly, stubborn, redheaded child...

A small bright-eyed child who clung to him not only out of choice, but out of necessity--who had no shadowy motives, nowhere else to go, and no terror of him, nor even a care for his reputation...or the danger that came of being near him.

Another innocent in his path of destruction, he realized with a faint shudder. And this little one, far more innocent in this than even Tomoe...

His mind, already stinging him again with the bloody rain and Tomoe's death, was far crueler to thrust at him the image of Tomoe and Kenji together in the snow, her lifeblood pouring into the whiteness as it had that day--and the tiny body beside her slashed in half--

--_**no**_--

With a ragged gasp, his eyes flew open, trying to banish that forceful flash even as he wiped cold sweat from his brow on the back of his sleeve. His hands were sticky with sweat, but it felt like blood; his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, but his own spit tasted of blood--and for a moment, he could even smell it thick in the air as just after a slaughter, and he felt sick...

Yet even as he gasped for air, the sudden loss of a small weight against his side startled him out of that circular, bloody deathtrap his mind so often fell into; there was Kenji, alive and whole and not a trace of blood anywhere, having leaned against him during his darkening reverie without his even noticing. But now, the boy sat up, gazing at him with hugely wide eyes and a serious little frown.

"Touchan?" Kenji quavered softly; had he somehow sensed the conflict within the older boy? He looked...worried. "Obiete?"

Kenshin swallowed hard as the red tide receded. The little voice came like sun through a fog, turning his thoughts from black memories of bloodshed to this moment, this place, on the sunny porch next to a sweet-faced child--who was worried because Kenshin was suffering in his heart.

No suspicion, no fear--only concern and caring and affection. And Kenji's simple love radiated from his small bright ki, uncomplicated and undefileable, simply because Kenshin was _there_, because he existed. For no reason other than that--merited or unworthy, clean or dirty, scarred or whole. It was all right in front of him, glowing like the Spring sun to his senses--a purity that awed him, a devotion he did not deserve.

Since he had gotten no answer, Kenji leaned a little closer and tried again. "Touchan daijoubu?"

Kenshin gulped audibly, stung by feelings old and new. "Aa...hai..." he replied, his voice raspy and trembling. "I'm okay, I just..."

Instead of believing him, Kenji leaned against him once more--this time with both arms flung as far as they would go around his waist. "Touchan's sad!" the little boy asserted, half-muffled against his shirt. "Don't be sad...it hurts..."

Bloody images forgotten, Kenshin tucked his arm tight around the little boy, pulling him closer--it was automatic somehow, a gut reaction of comfort for both himself and the child. The small body was warm and real, in need of reassurance as much as he himself was, and for a few open moments he allowed himself to just bask in this rare closeness, this unique tenderness. Never in his life had he sensed such contentment and caring, such complete and utter trust--not from anyone he'd ever known.

Not even Tomoe.

There were no shadows in Kenji's ki--no faint mistrust or nagging doubts, nothing to conceal or accuse; he was happy, he was concerned, he was content. The little boy was living simply in this moment, cozy and safe in the arms of the young man who would one day be his father. Like this, it was so easy to just _be_...

Was this what it might've been like, if he and Tomoe had been able to have a family--if she hadn't...?

Kenshin's head bowed over that of the child, flame-scarlet mingling with the darker red.

The lump that rose in his throat was hard to choke down; as it was, his eyes stung with emotion he always kept so tightly reined--but there was no one here in the yard, none but Kenji. The thought of what he might have someday--if this child was his, and he found himself hoping it was true--made his throat tighten almost painfully with a yearning gladness. If there could be a life anything like the inadequate reflection of which he was glimpsing here...even without Tomoe...

"Touchan?" Kenji's small voice spoke up softly. "You're still sad! Why?"

"I'm not...sad anymore," the young man replied somewhat unsteadily, blinking the remnants away. "I was just thinking."

"You're sad," the boy asserted, frowning little brows over sharp eyes turned up to face him, unconvinced.

"Just remembering someone I lost..." Kenshin whispered, looking away from the child's deep eyes. Two years--had it already been two years? The pain of her death still burned fresh as a hot brand, yet it felt as though he'd been alone forever. He didn't know Kenji's presence could be such a balm to that still-raw ache...

A small hand touched his left cheek, startling him into stillness once again, tiny fingers tracing the familiar cross-shaped scar--healed but still livid--that marred the smooth skin. "You remember. I know that story."

Kenshin's breath caught sharply in his throat, and he reached up to grab the little hand away from that precious, heavy mark, holding it gently.

"You have _that_..." Kenji never looked away from Kenshin's eyes, concentrating his limited vocabulary on what he was trying to say to help--and it was probably the longest, most thought-out thing the concerned little boy had ever said. "'Cause...it's a promise. You said so. Tomoe-san no yakusoku. So you remember. Tomoe-san is watching...an' smiling. Remember, no being sad."

Kenshin found it so hard to breathe again, staring in awe and wonder at the little one's wisdom, gifts from a father's remembered words; words that were a childish echo of something he himself had said--or would say, someday...

Someday, when he had finally healed...

Which meant that somehow he _could_.

On impulse, he wrapped his arms around the tiny boy and pulled him close again, unable to speak for the raw gratitude of knowing that he could perhaps be happy one day, that there was the hope of mending. He had not held someone like this, just to share warmth and human touch and--dare he think it--_love_, since Tomoe died. No one else had reached him that way, not even Okami-san and her affectionate pats and hugs and smiles as she tried her best to help. Yet here in this one tiny form was such innocent warmth, innocent caring, given freely to him without condition...

"Touchan? No more sad?"

Kenshin drew back a little to offer a shaky smile. "I think so...for now," he replied softly, meeting the bright pools of the child's eyes.

Kenji nodded half to himself, apparently pleased that the matter was resolved. "No more sad!" he reminded, almost a diffident little command, in utter seriousness.

"Aa," Kenshin agreed, still smiling faintly. "I'll try."

It might be a long time before he could keep to his word--but he could try. His grief and guilt over Tomoe's death was still too fresh, still too heavy--still waiting to spring upon him should his mind drift away, should his thoughts turn to her and their brief life together--but he knew now that in time the open wound would close as his scar had...and perhaps one day cease to bleed...

A sudden sense of _nearness_ and a soft scuffing footstep put Kenshin on-edge; cursing himself for letting his emotions blanket his awareness, he tensed and jerked his head up, glancing over toward the Inn's back door. His feelings were still raw within, but outwardly they had been pushed aside by the cool, wary face of the former hitokiri that he still had to be, until the war was won.

Awakening senses, fully alert once more, recognized the person coming through the door just as Kenji's head turned as well. Okami-san's presence registered the instant before he saw her, allowing him to relax somewhat, expression going from stern to...if not friendly, something a little more welcoming.

"Himura-chan...?" she called quietly, spotting him right where she'd left them a half-hour ago. She paused as she did, suddenly feeling as though she were interrupting something precious.

"Okami-san," Kenshin acknowledged, realizing that he was still holding Kenji close against him. The little boy had turned to smile at the woman as she approached, so Kenshin surreptitiously released him and scooted back.

"I'm sorry to disturb you--" And she looked like she meant it, too. "--but Katsura-han gave me a message to relay to you."

"Hai?" Clearing his throat, Kenshin sat up straight and hoped his eyes weren't any bit red.

"Several of the troop leaders were due to arrive tonight for the monthly meeting--Takasugi-han is going to be there too--and Katsura-han would like you and Kenji-chan to be in attendance."

"_And_ Kenji?" Startled, Kenshin's browsed raised, glancing down at the boy. "Naze? I can understand if Katsura-san wants me to go, but...there's no need for Kenji."

Okami-san frowned slightly. "I'm not quite sure--something about preparations, and making arrangements...I think they're trying to decide how Kenji-chan's presence is going to affect our progress."

"I see..." Pensive, his eyes narrowed. "I'll be there as he asks."

"I'll let Katsura-han know." The matron paused again, giving him a critical look. "Might I suggest...you and Kenji-chan make yourselves quite presentable before then? You, Himura-chan, look somewhat frazzled."

Chagrined, Kenshin's mouth quirked as he ran his fingers through his errant, neglected bangs. "Sou da na...and I _feel_ kind of frazzled too. But you're right--I'll get cleaned up and look the part of the fearsome hitokiri." He gave another glance to the little boy who had gotten up to scurry over to Okami-san for a hug. "I don't have anything for him, though..."

The older woman laughed briefly and patted Kenji on the head. "Oh, don't worry, Himura-chan. When Sakura did the laundry this morning she washed this little man's clothes as well as yours. He'll have his blue yukata back again; I think if you just give him a bath and comb this pretty hair, he'll do fine."

Kenshin's shoulders slumped a bit. "_Another_ bath?"

"Bath!" Kenji agreed boisterously, already bouncing back to lean on Kenshin's knees. "Bath, Touchan!"

"Later, Kenji--we'll do it later..." Kenshin sighed, resisting the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. Apparently satisfied, the little boy whooped and scuttled across the yard toward his tree-victim of earlier, in search of his stick. "How many baths do little kids need?" the young swordsman hazarded, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"As many times as they get dirty, apparently," Okami-san answered, almost wistfully. "Which is a lot, given that they play from dawn to dusk and have no care for formalities or good clothes or mud puddles. You haven't lived until you get to clean Kenji-chan up after a mud puddle."

The look Kenshin was giving her made her laugh aloud. Wiping her eyes, the proprietess of the Inn took a rare moment to sit down on the porch a yard distant from the young swordsman, watching Kenji play Super Samurai again with his little bit of bamboo.

"Have you been around children much?" she asked at length, not pressuring him by turning her eyes to him--instead, merely watching the little boy in the yard as if commenting on the pleasant weather.

Kenshin shrugged vaguely in answer, his own eyes also tracking the child. "I was with children fairly often...when I was in Otsu. They would come and see me, to play games...but they would always go home for dinner and bed."

"What about before that?" Okami-san inquired. "Before you...met with Katsura-han?"

"There wasn't much playing to be done, before," Kenshin replied. "Shishou kept me hard at work training, and there weren't any other kids on the mountain. Sometimes I'd see children my age when we went down to the village, but most of them avoided me, especially once I started wearing a sword. Some thought I was a samurai...sometimes it was the hair that frightened them away..." He snorted briefly in amusement. "...and sometimes it was my Shishou. He's...very imposing. Especially to kids."

"I can imagine," Okami-san tittered softly, hiding her sadness at his brief explanation. She knew that she was one of the few to whom he'd actually told anything of his past--Katsura-han being another one of those few. But she was fairly certain there were things he'd told her that not even their master knew--like his life during training, or things he remembered of his life even before his master. He had confided in her once, long ago, that he had been the lowest of peasants, even a slave--not a samurai, not even supposed to pick up a full katana--and she would not break his trust, not even to Katsura-han--

"_Itai!_" came a sudden wail from across the yard--Kenji, who had dropped to his rump to cradle one foot, fighting back tears.

To Okami-san's intense surprise, Kenshin was up as soon as the cry fell, darting to kneel at Kenji's side in a flash of the speed he normally reserved for his enemies. He looked down at the upset boy, searching for any sign of blood and injury--

--and finding none, simply blinked. "What happened?" he asked, letting the small child lean against his leg. "What's wrong?"

"Toes ouched," Kenji explained with a short sniffle, holding up his foot. "Gotta pokie."

"Is _that_ all," Kenshin snorted, almost affectionately, maneuvering the small appendage so he could examine the bottom of it. There was indeed a splinter in the little boy's foot, right in his big toe--not a bloody stab wound as Kenshin was used to, so he couldn't quite see the point of the fuss...but then, it _was_ a decently-sized sliver. "Alright, hold still..."

Kenji bit his bottom lip in near-comical seriousness as Kenshin delicately removed the offending bit of sharp matter. It took only a moment before the sliver was gone, and the boy was once again smiling.

"There, now do you feel better?" Kenshin asked, standing up to dust off his knees.

"Hai!" Kenji responded, sparkle restored, pain forgotten. "All better!"

"And it was just a little tiny--oro! Hold up, you--" Kenshin snagged the child by his collar to brush off the rear end of the white--or _formerly_ white--borrowed yukata, which had been gifted with a coating of dust courtesy of Kenji's splinter-induced plunk. "What a mess..." he sighed at last, releasing the little boy to scamper off to play once more--wondering why he'd bothered.

Okami-san was already on her way over to him, looking as though she were trying not to laugh. "What, no one died?" she offered amusedly. "Well that's a relief."

Kenshin sighed, shaking his head at himself. "He needs some sandals or something..."

The older woman looked at him compassionately, with faint reprimand. "He needs a lot of things, Himura-chan."

"I know _that_." The youth shrugged, half-helplessly.

Okami-san sighed, patting his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. "So...I can bring Kenji's yukata out to you, so you'll be ready..."

To her surprise, Kenshin shook his head. "Don't, please. I can come and get it."

"Very well," she replied with a nod. "This way."

He followed her a few steps before he realized that he'd forgotten his daisho when Kenji cried out; shocked at himself, he muttered an unappreciative descriptor for his lapse and stepped over quickly to retrieve them. Okami-san just shook her head ruefully and called Kenji over to accompany them inside.

* * *

"...for this street, this street, and four more on the bridges here..."

Okita caught himself yawning in the middle of his subordinate's speech on the currently proposed changes in patrol routes and squad deployment. "Ah, gomen, gomen!" he chuckled at himself, at the lieutenant's askance look. "The afternoon is so lazy...please, continue."

Trying to ignore Saito's snort from the door of the meeting room, the man finished his explanation with only a few hesitant glances at the imposing Shinsengumi captain. "Er, yes...that is...four more patrol groups on these bridges, in case anyone slips past the eight between the markets and the south residential."

"Have you taken into account the street layouts versus the buildings around them?" Saito asked abruptly.

"I...we did lay this out by using the original maze design of the inner city," the lieutenant replied, paling slightly. "Any gaps in the patrols should be compensated by the lack of direct path in the--"

"Ahou," Saito growled, causing the shorter soldier to jump.

"Maa, Saito-san, be gentle," Okita cautioned lightly, trying not to snicker. Several other Shinsengumi in the room tittered, which didn't help.

The tall captain rolled his eyes. "If this ahou didn't plan for the heights of the buildings, I might as well start finding someone else to do his job. He'll be dead, because the Battousai will have hopped right over one of those flimsy alley walls he's bragging about and cut him down."

"Ano...we _did_ take that into account, sir," the lieutenant protested politely, if cautiously. "We planned for the height of the walls versus the height of the buildings, and--"

"Unless you were only planning on using the two-story and higher buildings as a barrier, don't even continue," Saito growled again. "You obviously haven't been studying your opponent, have you?"

"Er, ano, that is..."

"What Saito-san means to say," Okita interjected smoothly, offering a pleasant smile to the snow-pale lieutenant, "is that the Hitokiri Battousai can jump like a mountain cat, and can easily reach any window on the second floor of most structures. It is impossible to simply corner him in a maze, when he is not bound by the walls of that maze."

"Ah...hai..." Wide-eyed, the young lieutenant stared disbelievingly--accompanied by either shaking heads from the more experienced troops in the meeting room, or mutters of equal disbelief from the less.

"Quiet, all of you," Saito snapped. "Any fools here who _think_ they know anything had better be prepared to die. _None_ of you has any experience whatsoever. And I tell you..." He stood up from his lean on the doorframe to glare at all of the faces gathered within. "There is no man here today who has actually faced Battousai in the field. Because, ahou-tachi, every man who has _ever_ fought that devil of a hitokiri--every one who ever drew his sword and stood his ground, exept for Okita and myself--has _died_."

He fixed each soldier with a look that lasted no longer than a second, as many of them shifted uncomfortably. "I will tell you this now--if any of your patrols does happen to catch up with Battousai, it is quite likely that _all_ of you will die exactly as your comrades did last night, down to the last man. The Battousai is not a rat that can be cornered--" At this, he directed a glare at the lieutenant. "--he is a dragon which can only be slain by the strongest of knights."

Dead silence reigned. Glaring at the gray faces of the Shogun's finest--so many of them new recruits, given the number of recent deaths--Saito curled his lip and finally turned away with a snort.

"You need to modify your plans a bit," Okita said at last, his softer tones more welcome than Saito's scornful ones, as the other squad lieutenants looked to him gratefully. "None of you will be able to kill the Battousai--unless one of you is a prodigy and hasn't told us..."

A polite titter ran through the gathered men.

"So the object of your patrols should be to avoid a direct confrontation with him," Okita went on, still smiling. "You should be able to net any common rebels you come across, but if you find _him_, he has two options. One--he can flee, and he usually will if he is not defending rebel men. That means your lives are spared--if you do not pursue him." The Captain of the First Squad had a strange glint in his eye. "Or two--he can attack, and he will if he is on assignment or protecting rebel activity. In that case, many of you will die before you draw your swords."

Now many of the men were back where they started--just as pale as before.

"But take heart," Okita went on with a sunny look, "he's not cruel, and is very efficient--most likely you won't even feel a thing."

"Ahou ga..." Saito muttered disgustedly. "And you think _I'm_ a problem."

"Hai, hai, gomen..." The shorter captain laughed briefly at himself and went back to the subject. "To wit, gentlemen; if the Battousai runs, that's our chance. That means he's on his own and is not going to seek to attack. If we can coordinate our parols when the alert is given, and drive him where we need him to go, we can assure that only Saito-san and myself, or one of the other captains, need cross swords with him. Safer for you, more fun for us."

Renewed--if somewhat nervous--chuckles sounded from the lieutenants.

The one who had been doing the speaking gave a half-bow. "I will heed your advice, Captain. We will proceed with these patrols today, but starting tonight we will begin with your new plans."

Okita nodded, hiding the slightly predatory look--the one he shared with Saito sometimes--behind a pleasant smile. "Arigato. You're dismissed."

The gathered Shinsengumi lieutenants bowed and rose to file out, trying not to look like they were tiptoeing past the leaning Saito. He only snarled at the last man out, sending that young man scurrying, and turned to face Okita, who was still seated in his place.

"Fleeing? Drive him?" Saito snorted, turning a raised eyebrow at his compatriot. "What happened to just holding him off until we get there?"

Okita sighed, smiling fondly. "You're a most excellent warrior, Saito-san, but you forget sometimes that not everyone is as strong as you. We both know Red's too fast a killer to be held up by a few bodies thrown his way. And he's quick on the uptake as well--if he suspects he's being delayed, he'll cut and run, quite literally."

Saito snorted again.

"This way will perhaps spare us a few men," Okita went on with a shrug. "And give them some hope of success--and survival. If Red just thinks he's being chased, instead of actively baited or held up, he'll most likely run to where the confrontation seems less probable."

"Where you assume we'll be headed when the alarm is given. That is, if he doesn't smell a trap and bolt," Saito grumbled, looking disgusted by what he had to admit. "Are you forgetting he's got better senses than either of us?"

"No," Okita replied, still smiling, though it had gone cool. "That just means we'll have to be very, very quick. And if I'm wrong, we'll be back where we started, no more and no less."

"That's a long way to hike to go in a circle."

The Captain of the First just shrugged again, standing up to leave with his companion. "At least this way the patrols that catch up with him can begin to narrow down his patterns of movement and perhaps even his general location." He offered another much less sunny and much more sharp grin. "Then you and I can go sniffing around, ne?"

At last, Saito smiled as well--a thin-edged, hungry slash of a smile. "Now _that_ sounds much better..."

* * *

"Arigato, Okami-san..."

Once again, they were in the kitchen--the empty kitchen, which, incidentally, conjoined with the laundry area--and Kenji was sitting on the worktable, this time with his happily wagging feet dangling over the edge. He was munching away on a piece of carrot, with Kenshin leaning on the table right beside him to make sure he didn't fall.

"Don't mention it." Okami-san waved away Kenshin's gratitude with a smile. "We're doing basketloads of laundry anyway--what's one more little yukata?"

Kenshin glanced down at the small, light gray-blue garment he held. It was no worse for wear, after having been blood-smudged last night--for which the young swordsman was supremely grateful. "Still, thank you," he insisted, dropping his head. "Sorry to be such a burden. Especially since you'll have to be looking after him so much..."

"Not too much," Okami-san warned, shaking a finger at him, eliciting a surprised blink. "You're going to have to do some of the looking-after yourself, young man. I can help, but I can't be running after him _all_ the time; I have a cover operation to run." She winked conspiratorily.

"Oro...but...I have to work so often, and...!" Startled, the brief splutter just slipped out.

"Himura-chan, don't worry," Okami-san said soothingly. "I'll help you out with that; the girls and I will watch him when you have to work for Katsura-san, or when you need to rest. But he won't want to be with me and the girls _all_ the time, you know," she explained firmly. "He's a little boy who loves his father--he'd rather be with _you_. Isn't that right, Kenji-chan?"

Kenji swallowed his bite of ninjin to grin dazzlingly. "Touchan daaaisuki!" he announced, at which Okami-san laughed.

Kenshin flushed and gulped, and tried to speak; all he got was an embarassingly girlish squeak.

"See what I mean?" the matron chuckled. "He doesn't want to be stuck in a flock of hens all day. And I'm afraid we can't always spare the time. So when you're not working and not practicing kenjutsu, you'd best be prepared to be in charge of him," Okami-san went on--apparently deciding to lay down some ground rules for Kenji's stay at her Inn. "He'll need to be fed and washed and entertained, and kept out of trouble."

"D-demo..."

"And you'll have to make sure he doesn't wander away from you, or get outside the yard on his own. You must keep him out of the way of the soldiers and captains, and most _especially_ out of sight of the Shinsengumi on the streets or any surprise searches. Is that clear?"

"H-hai, but..."

"He's going to need more than just this one set of clothes, obviously, as well as some footwear and perhaps some toys to keep him occupied. You may want to get him his own small futon, which is easier to wash in case of accidents. And if he gets sick, you should come get me right away--I know you can keep him out of most mundane dangers yourself, but if he gets a cold or some such the both of you are going to be _miserable_..."

"But...!"

"This might seem like a lot to you, but it's really just basic things," Okami-san continued. "Common sense, alertness, and safety will get you far, and you should already be good at those. He needs you for everything, Himura-chan--you have to realize that. He's too small and too young to do very much at all by himself. But don't worry." She smiled. "Just love him and take care of him, and everything else should work out fine."

"Demo..."

"Yes, Himura-chan?" Okami-san asked gently, spotting the terrified look creeping through the former hitokiri's already-cracking mask of neutrality.

"...I don't know _how_..." he admitted, half above a whisper, head bowed with embarrassed distress.

Okami-san stared at him in surprised fondness for a moment. The look on his face was just so precious; beneath the crumpled mask, anxiety and uncertainty mixed with determination and an almost childlike resolve to _try_...really, he hadn't changed, not a bit. Only the scars on his face and the scars on his heart; he was still the same good-hearted boy she had always known, ever since he'd been a gawky youngster in the big city for the first time--and she'd held him then just as she would do now. Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled the unresisting youth into a hug.

"You dear boy...of course I'll help you," she murmured, over his bowed head. She smoothed a hand over his back, feeling the tension in his far-too-slim shoulders. Father though he might be, he was still so young, and so new to it. The only life he'd ever known was the sword, and the war, and endless blood--and his one brief glimpse of a happy life was cut short in one night by one tragic mistake. And now this cold-faced, gentle-hearted death-dealer had somehow been entrusted with a child; barely more than a boy himself, he suddenly had to shift his perspective, his whole world, to include another who was entirely dependent on him.

At last, the trembling in his shoulders eased under her gentle rubbing, and his breaths were a little more even. Kenji, long since done with his carrot, was watching solemn and wide-eyed when Kenshin finally straightened and stepped back. Hiding his face behind the unruly fall of his bangs, he spoke softly but clearly.

"Arigato gozaimasu, Okami-san. You've helped me so much...through all of this...ever since I came, and I've hardly done anything for you but carry water and hang laundry...and I don't even do that any more--"

"Nonsense." She ruffled his tempting red hair, smiling in a motherly way, grateful as always that there was no one else in the kitchen; Kenshin would never have opened himself so freely, and she could never have broken decorum to reach out to him. The others would be shocked if they knew who their illustrious hitokiri really was behind closed doors. "I love having you stay here, and not just for the chores. It's like having my boy back in the house again."

"Arigato..."

"You can always ask me if you have any questions," she assured him. "And if I'm not available there's always Sakura or Midori or even Rika--they've all had children of their own and they can give you advice."

"Aa...I'll keep that in mind." Kenshin glanced over at Kenji, who was watching him seriously. "Oi, don't look like that. I'm not sad. See?"

The smile he attempted probably didn't look all that great, but it apparently convinced the boy. Kenji's stern flat line of a mouth shifted into a happy curve once more. "Hai, Touchan! No more sad!"

Okami-san smiled maternally at the interplay, feeling glad that this small toddler could coax even that wan effort of a smile out of the quiet, lonely, wounded shadow of a boy her Himura-chan had become. _Kenji-chan is good medicine for him,_ she considered wisely. _His place is right where it helps most--in Himura-chan's heart._

"I've got an idea," the proprietess announced. "You've got several hours to pass before your meeting with Katsura-san and the others; why don't we take that time to go shopping?"

The former hitokiri looked up from the little boy to stare dubiously at her. "Shopping?"

"To get those sandals you were suggesting for Kenji-chan," she answered with a smile. "And an extra set of clothes and such. Goodness knows he'll need it if he's to be with us for a while. Did nothing come with him?"

Kenshin hesitated a half-beat. "No. Nothing but these clothes."

"Sou ka..." Okami-san didn't want to pry, guessing that perhaps the boy had had to be whisked off with only the clothes on his back. "Then we'll just have to fix that! You two go get your bath in short order, and I'll get my bag--there were some things I was going to send Midori to fetch, but I can do it myself; it'll be nice to get out of the Inn for a spell."

"Bath, bath," Kenji began to singsong cheerfully. "Bath-bath-bath!"

"Hai...bath..." Kenshin's shoulders drooped once more, as he caught up an eagerly wriggling Kenji and cradled him in his free arm. Child in one arm, yukata in the other, the young swordsman headed for the kitchen door. "We'll be back...I hope."

"Himura-chan..."

Okami-san's soft, amused voice made him turn, seeing her gentle, motherly smile. "Hai?"

She winked at him. "Just make it a game."

Puzzled, he went on his way.

_To be continued..._


	5. Part 3: But I Continue Learning

_**Disclaimer:** Himura Kenshin and all his friends (and various enemies) belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, who was wise and kind enough to create such an enjoyable series. Other original characters invented in this fic belong to me. But I'm still not getting any money out of this, so please don't sue._

**Rurouni Kenshin:  
The Reason **

Part 3: But I Continue Learning

**3rd year of Keiou  
Early Spring 1867 - Kyoto**

_"Make it a game," she says,_ Kenshin thought sourly as he and Kenji stripped down in preparation for another--and he labeled it loosely--bath. _Just make it a game, huh? How do you make a game out of taking a bath? You can play games **in** the bath, but bathing is not a game..._

He eyed Kenji as the tiny child tossed his undergarments away carelessly and made for the washtubs, not relishing the prospect of another battle to get the child bathed. The last one had been chancy at best, a lucky turn away from approaching defeat...how could he make sure this went better than before?

Kenshin headed after the boy, preparing himself for the inevitable clash. _Make it a game. Make it a game. Yeah, right. Everyone knows bathing is no game, just a process..._

_I know that,_ realized that helpful little heart-voice, _but does **he** know that?_

"Yosh'!" he announced with quite unusual cheer, making Kenji stop and look at him curiously. "Let's get the bath done so we can go shopping. What do you say, Kenji?"

The little boy blinked, then smiled. "Hai!"

_There--now he's got the right attitude for a trainee. He's got to **want** to accomplish the goal I choose for him--so I make it sound really, really appealing._ Kenshin actually dared a grin at his stroke of insight. _Arigato, Shishou; I'm going to borrow one of your training methods... _

Though I'm going to do it a lot more gently, he added tartly.

"Here's how it's going to be," Kenshin told the small boy, seating himself on a stool. "We've got to get done fast so we can go with Okami-san. So I'll help wash you and you help wash me."

Kenji's eyebrows went up. _Way_ up. "Wash _Touchan?_"

"Aa. Here's the soap." Kenshin presented him with a sudsy cloth, keeping a second for himself. He got in some good washing as Kenji stood there, looking astonished. Then the giggles kicked in and Kenji started to do his part, scrubbing earnestly at Kenshin's chest, oblivious to the quick and thorough scouring he was getting.

He was quite absorbedly washing Kenshin's knee by the time the hair-cleaning was finished and Kenji was rinsed and pronounced done. Kenshin got some extra help getting himself scrubbed, but having one's back washed is never something to complain about, so he didn't. He was only slightly displeased to discover a bit of sticky fish-grease in his hair from the lunch fiasco, but it washed out easily enough; no harm done, so he let it pass.

Into the steaming tub they went, Kenshin once more keeping a careful hold on the small child. This time, the heat seemed to soothe the boy; instead of wriggling, he leaned back against Kenshin's chest with a soft sigh.

And Kenshin sat as still as stone, staring down at the top of the child's damp head. Kenji rested against him in perfect innocent unconcern, little hands tracing lazy whorls in the warm water just to watch it swirling, humming softly to himself.

_Okami-san's going to expect us soon,_ Kenshin thought, after a few minutes of sitting still, allowing himself to relax, bathing not only in warm water but in the warm, contented ki of the little boy. _We're going out...she'll be waiting, and we only have a few hours before the meeting, then I'll be late for Katsura-san's appointment..._ His thoughts moved slowly, circling back, as though he were trying to convince himself to get up.

_We have to go; we're expected. I have things to do...responsibilities..._ He looked down at the damp tousled head against his chest. _...but I just don't want to leave **this**..._

Eventually, common sense and the press of time won out; he carried Kenji out of the tub and headed over to finish up. Somehow, the getting-dressed part seemed to go a little more smoothly; less water ended up in places it shouldn't have during the drying process and there were no frantic grabs to keep an errant scamp from diving back into the bathtub. After getting himself dressed in the clothes he'd brought--his usual dark blue, a little more suitable for going out--he helped a giggling Kenji into his little blue-gray yukata and scooped him up to carry him outside.

Once again, he left the used clothes in the laundry bin. Blood or no blood, it was nice not to have to worry about them.

There were fewer men in the halls of the Inn during the day, since many had either gone out about their business or were down in one of the lounge rooms drinking or talking. Kenshin was able to make it to his room without seeing a single soul, though he could sense several nearby, and once there he set about finishing the process of dressing and making sure Kenji was presentable as well.

They sat together at the open bedroom window, letting the breeze dry their loose hair. Kenji was somewhat wriggly but smiling and cooperative, less genki than in the morning probably because his energy was going down as the day wore on. Kenshin kept an almost unconscious smile on his face--a faint, reflective one--as he sat the child between his knees to comb his unruly mane.

It was a painstaking process, working small tangles in the surprisingly long strands loose with comb and fingers without making Kenji wince; the results of going through two baths, a sleep, and nearly a day without a brushing. Kenshin went about his work with careful delicacy and uncharacteristic gentleness, bearing an expression of tender concentration that would have shocked far too many of his compatriots.

Soon, the red locks were clear and smooth from roots to tips, though Kenshin continued to comb for a bit longer, just because the child's hair was so soft--even softer than his own, and just as thick, with a silky newness to it that brought to mind the down of a baby bird. The color was somewhat deeper than his as well, shading toward true red rather than the flaming scarlet of Kenshin's long bright mane. But unless an observer really _looked_, Kenshin and Kenji were redheads one and the same, and there could be no mistaking where the boy had gotten that hair.

_No,_ Kenshin thought absently, running his fingers over Kenji's soft hair one last time. _No mistake..._

He didn't even stop to realize that it was the first time he'd consciously accepted that assumption as valid. His mind didn't even protest or raise a doubt; without even thinking about it, he was slipping into the role.

Kenshin's own hair was tackled with less finesse, more speed. He defeated the knots in the long tangle quickly, winding it up into a high tail as was his custom, though it was still just slightly damp. He completed his routine with his armguards and tabi, straightening his top and brushing lint off his hakama.

Kenji had occupied himself during this activity with trying to pull the futon down from its folded stack to jump on it like a pile of leaves. Lips qurking, Kenshin caught him up, deciding that the boy needed finishing touches as well. A hair tie would keep that fiery mass in check--though not a high ponytail like his own, he decided after a bit of combing; no, it would look best low on the boy's neck, to keep his appearance soft and innocent, as he truly was.

"Ready yet?" Kenji asked yet again, fidgeting as Kenshin looked him over one last time.

"Not quite," Kenshin replied, partaking of a ritual that had become commonplace ever since he'd lost his place in the shadows as a hitokiri--the disposal of the hair.

His red hair was very distinctive, and if even a strand of it was found here by the Shinsengumi investigators that occasionally showed up for searches and raids--a strand, or any trace of his presence at all--then Okami-san and her staff could be slaughtered for harboring him. So each time he combed, the hair that collected in the comb had to be gathered and properly disposed of. Usually he took it down to the kitchen, where it was burned in the stove.

"Ready _now?_" Kenji wheedled, bouncing impatiently by the door.

"Aa, I guess we are," the youth replied, pausing one moment to slip his money pouch into his gi and set his wakizashi in his belt. _Okay, let's see...money? Check. Sword? Check. Hair? Check. Haori and...oh--hat...got it._ He had everything he needed; why was it that he felt so unprepared?

Because he was venturing out once more into the streets beyond the Inn, without the cover of darkness, in a city where every lawman had his description and orders to kill on sight--and not only that, but he was bringing a child along. The probability of disaster just got higher. Even if Okami-san did most of her shopping in the more Ishin-friendly streets--and there were quite a few--there was always the chance of a Shinsengumi patrol or some Shogunate loyalist with a loose katana.

But Kenji was tugging determinedly on his sleeve, hopping up and down like a rabbit in his eagerness to go. Kenshin let show a small, wan smile and allowed himself to be pulled out the door, hat and katana in hand.

* * *

He always felt like the hunted in the open street--and being a hunter himself, it was the worst possible feeling. There were too many eyes, too many people; the sun highlighted him as a target, and there was too much chatter and noise to distinguish the whispering ring of a drawn blade, the patter of stealthily charging footsteps. All he could do was listen to the flicker of ki all around him, watching the shifting cool colors of everyday emotion in the people going about their business--waiting for the sharp sparks of aggression and attack.

Ever since he'd left the shadows as the Ishinshishi prime hitokiri, Kenshin had become ill-at-ease walking down the streets during the day. Normally, he reserved his trips for evenings when he was not working, so that the lengthening shadows of sunset afforded him some cover. Even if he knew it really wasn't true, he felt as though everyone was watching him; the shadows of his straw hat hid his face somewhat, but they could never completely disguise the flaming color of his hair, nor the brand of sorrows on his cheek.

Thankfully, his ki-senses told him the truth--few people noticed him, going about their busy lives as they were; those that did only prickled with surprise and curiosity, seldom recognition. Most gazes were drawn to a different head of bright red hair--the tiny vibrant boy skipping down the street with him.

Here in the street, Kenshin slipped back into the role of the warrior, the killer, the deadly danger of the hitokiri he had once been wrapping around him like a cold, comforting, defensive cloak. There was no sign of his earlier gentleness; he walked several paces behind Okami-san with no expression on his face, keeping one eye on her heels and the other on the little boy who bounced back and forth between them, barefoot and excited to be out and about.

And to the hitokiri's hunter-eye, the child was a bright, laughing target for any enemy who might be on the street; with that in mind, Battousai watched and listened and guarded, hypervigilant, mentally frowning at the situation, the possibility of danger, the feeling of exposure.

_Don't walk so close to me; if I'm attacked, you'll be hurt,_ the hunter-sense commanded, when Kenji dropped back once again to pant and laugh and ask another of his seemingly-endless questions. _Don't hang on my right arm; I may have to draw my sword. Don't talk so much and laugh so loud. Don't draw so much attention to yourself; don't let them connect you with me. Don't stay so close--don't stray too far!_

Kenshin fought off a scowl at himself, kicking the predatory part of his consciousness for its paranoia. He knew his vigilance was well-warranted, but _really_, he could trust Okami-san to know where to go; she'd been in the espionage and undercover business longer than he had, that was for sure. His job had required secrecy in solitude; hers meant keeping deadly secrets and operating her daily business among hundreds of people. She knew what she was doing.

Another tug on his hand reminded him ruefully of his very small companion, who was becoming frustrated with his long silence and continued refusal to engage in meaningful conversation--meaningful being to answer "What's that?" and "Why?" repeatedly, about nearly everything the boy saw.

"Touchan, what's that?" Kenji asked, true to form, pointing at a wooden cart decorated with flags and signs.

"A yakitori seller," Kenshin replied simply, scanning the cart once before looking straight ahead again.

"An' what's that?" Another finger accompanied the question.

"A greengrocer."

"We'll be stopping there on the way back," Okami-san glanced back to inform him, smiling as if enjoying a stroll on holiday. "We'll pick up the vegetables and fish when we're done looking for clothes, so they won't spoil while we're shopping."

"Hai," Kenshin responded. Okami-san "tsked" to herself about his reversion to a cold shell, but he couldn't help it much; the threat of danger always put him on-edge, sharpened him, and with Kenji along it only seemed to make his gnawing anxiety worse.

"Asaya-han should have what we need," the older woman went on, half to herself, slowing down to turn toward one of the shops on the other side of the street. "She has good fabrics and is always willing to give me a low price..."

Kenshin didn't really know much about clothes shopping--if it fit, he wore it, and dark colors were most suitable for his work; and that was it. He had little use for what was "stylish," though Okami-san had told him once to avoid wearing colors that clashed garishly with his bright hair. Whatever that meant.

With Kenji still on his sleeve, he stepped through the door of the shop after Okami-san, removing his hat once he was within the small store's interior, away from so many eyes. There were many racks, all of them hung about with kimono of many shapes and sizes, in a dizzying array of colors.

"Youokoshi, Hana-han!" called a female voice from the back of the shop. Within moments, a plump woman barely taller than Kenshin himself bustled out from behind the racks and displays, dressed in flowery colors and smiling a sunny welcome at Okami-san and her guests. "And what a lovely day we're having, ne?"

"Asaya-han, konnichiwa," Okami-san replied pleasantly. "It's good to see you again. I think you remember Himura-han...?"

The plump woman looked Kenshin up and down for a moment before smiling again. "Ah, yes, of course I remember him! My carrot-top samurai boy! Goodness, I haven't seen you in ages, Himura-han--has it been that many years? And you've grown a bit too, I see!"

Kenshin only gave a brief nod of a bow; he remembered this busy, active woman from his early days in Kyoto, when he was only just getting into his role as hitokiri. Okami-san had brought him here a couple times, to outfit him with new clothes during one of the only major growth spurts he'd ever had. And even so, the new clothes and alterations made weren't too concerned with height, just a little more width to his shoulders.

Nowadays, he hardly bothered with clothes shopping; he had a couple of sets, and that was good enough.

"We'll be needing some small yukata," Okami-san was explaining to the seamstress, "and possibly one little hakama for dress occasions."

"Child-size?" Asaya-san wondered aloud, puzzled for a moment--until she glanced questioningly at Kenshin and caught sight of the tiny redhead peeking out from behind the young swordsman's leg. "Oh, goodness! Goodness gracious me! Look at that hair! Is that _your_ little one, Himura-han?"

"Ah, yes, this is Kenji-chan," Okami-san informed her when Kenshin froze blankly, reaching down to coax the little boy out. "There've been some distressing circumstances, you see, and this child has nothing but one piece of clothing to his name--"

"Oh my, say no more, Hana-han!" Asaya-san interrupted, nodding sagely before bending to Kenji's level with a wide smile. "Hello there, cutie! Are you shopping with your Otousan today?"

"Un!" Kenji replied, quickly warming up to the middle-aged woman's breezy chatter. "Shoppin' for waraji!"

"And footwear as well! Smart boy, smart boy!" Asaya-san gushed, patting Kenji on the head and cooing like a doting auntie. "Such a sweet little thing! And he looks just like his papa--two redheaded peas in a pod! Goodness gracious, Himura-han, what a precious little angel you have here!"

Overwhelmed, and unprepared for what he found himself in the middle of, Kenshin surreptitiously edged away from the woman. "Ah...arigato..."

"No need to blush so, Himura-han!" Asaya-san winked at him, going back to her gushing over Kenji, who was simply eating it all up with the most sparkling of childish smiles. "What a darling little boy!"

"She's quite vivid, isn't she?" Okami-san whispered aside to Kenshin, trying not to laugh at the somewhat-helpless non-expression on the serious youth's face. "Here, I'll spare you just this once."

The proprietess of the Inn turned to the seamstress, in the most pleasant and businesslike manner. "Asaya-han, would you happen to have any yukata in Kenji-chan's size?"

The plump woman looked up from her engaging conversation about favorite animals. "This size? Oh--hai, hai, I believe I do!" Patting Kenji on the head one more time, she rose and bustled off again, gesturing for them to follow her further into the shop.

"Well, shall we?" Okami-san gave him a patient look, taking Kenji by the hand to lead him after the woman.

"Oro..." the former hitokiri sighed, heading deeper into the lion's den.

The rack at which Asaya-san stopped was full of children's clothes, from flowery multicolored girls' kimono to more plain, masculine hues for boys, arrayed in cut and color according to materials and station. Kenshin stared at the dazzling display in some disbelief, wondering how in the world one was supposed to choose from all of this--and who would wear some of those patterns of pinkness and swirls.

Maybe he should be very glad that Kenji was a _boy_.

"Yes, yes, here..." Asaya-san was folding through several garments on the boys' rack, pulling out a few of the smallest. "He's such a wee thing I think only these will do! Oh, he would look so kawaii in a fuscia and spring green, with that pretty hair! And goodness, this one would match his eyes--!"

"Ano, Asaya-han," Okami-san interjected politely, seeing the somewhat horrified glimmer in the back of Kenshin's blank stare, "I think we're looking for something a bit _simpler_, if you know what I mean." The older matron gave the seamstress a meaningful look. "We'd rather that Kenji-chan not draw too much attention to himself."

Asaya-san paused in her blithe chatter for a moment, one eyebrow raising slightly. Then the moment passed, and the plump gabbing woman returned. "Oh yes, of course, it wouldn't do to dress him up like a doll! No, not a big boy like him!"

Immensely pleased at being called a "big boy," Kenji danced eagerly alongside her to see what would be picked out. Asaya-san drew forth several boys' yukata and matching obi, setting them on the front of the racks for perusal.

Okami-san took over, once Kenshin gave her a helpless glance. "I think these two will do," the older woman said easily, making her choices skillfully. One was a dusty leaf-green with a darker belt, and the other was a soft sky-blue not too unlike the one Kenji wore now, but not as grayish. Both were plain, but made of sturdy cloth and serviceable for everyday use.

Kenshin breathed a sigh of relief; once more, the ever-efficient Okami-san had saved him, knowing much more about both clothing and children. He trusted her choices to be good ones.

"There you go, Kenji-chan," Okami-san offered, showing the little boy the two she had chosen. "Do you like these?"

Kenji made a great show of careful consideration, scrunching up his face until Kenshin began to worry that he'd reject the yukata altogether. Then, after several moments of thought, the small boy nodded at last. "Aa. Those're okay."

Both Okami-san and Asaya-san smiled, as the seamstress whisked the garments away to wrap them in paper for the sale. While she was seeing to that, Okami-san led her two redheaded charges back to the front.

Kenshin leaned a little closer to the matron. "Will I be able to afford those?" he asked softly, giving voice to a concern he'd been hiding since they'd walked into the shop.

Okami-san offered him a reassuring look. "Don't worry, plain yukata like that are fairly cheap, especially when they come small, even with a couple sets of undergarments." She smiled wryly. "Just be glad Kenji-chan isn't a little girl, otherwise the amount of cloth would cost that much more."

Kenshin gulped and nodded.

"I know you're fretting behind those icy eyes of yours," the woman scolded lightly, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry so much, Himura-chan. Oh--Asaya-han, choi...!" Abruptly breaking off her low-voiced talk with Kenshin, Okami-san stepped over to where the seamstress was wrapping the little yukata and spoke quietly to her for a moment.

Kenshin observed, but did not interfere, when the two women gave him and Kenji a measuring look and disappeared once more into the back of the shop. Kenji, also puzzled, clung to the corner of Kenshin's gi sleeve.

"Go buy waraji now, Touchan?" the boy inquired, turning his cherubic face upwards.

"Soon, I think," Kenshin responded, automatically reaching down to smooth the top of the child's hair. "When Okami-san is done."

To his surpise, Kenji took a step forward and hollered into the back of the shop, "Okami-saaan, hayaku! I wanna go!"

"Oro! Shhh! Kenji, don't shout!" Kenshin hissed, startled by the child's volume--and by his own alarmed reaction. As if one little kid yelling could bring every Shinsengumi in the city down on their heads. "Ah...it's rude to shout indoors..." he added lamely, to soften his previous snap.

Kenji just frowned at him, sticking out his lower lip. Kenshin sighed, hoping the boy's attitude wouldn't go sour.

"Yes, we're coming, Kenji-chan," the voice of Okami-san responded, laughing softly as she returned to the front with Asaya-san. Both women carried something of cloth, and between the two of them held the pair of garments up together for inspection.

Kenshin raised an eyebrow. Okami-san held up the top, a small gi of pure blue with a white undershirt; beneath it, Asaya-san held a pair of light cloud-gray hakama--a perfect miniature of a samurai outfit, very well-made and obviously of fine value. The little garments were the very same hues of blue and gray as his own favorite clothes, only several shades lighter.

_Are they trying to color-coordinate us?_ Kenshin wondered, staring mutely at the ensemble.

"Well?" Okami-san chuckled at last. "What do you think?"

Before Kenshin could open his mouth, Kenji was bounding forward to finger the fabrics. "Waaai! Just like Touchan's! I like it! I like it!"

"That settles that!" Asaya-san laughed cheerfully. "You were right, Hana-han--you simply _must_ get this oufit!"

Okami-san turned patient, amused eyes to the young swordsman. "Well, Himura-han?"

"Aa...it's nice, but..."

"Onegai, Touchan!" Kenji was already scuttling back to cling to his leg, gazing up pleadingly with his most darling expression. "Onegai?"

Oh, Kami-sama, how was he supposed to say no to _that?_ Kenshin tore his gaze away from the earnest little face to stare helplessly at Okami-san once more. "I wish I could, but...I can't afford that! The quality..."

The older woman smiled sympathetically, secretly. "Then consider it a gift, Himura-han. A welcoming gift for Kenji-chan."

Kenshin boggled, unintentionally breaking his mask. "But Okami-san, I couldn't--"

"Asaya-han will put it on my bill," Okami-san interrupted, winking at the seamstress. "You can pay for the yukata easily, but this will be my gift to Kenji-chan."

"Touchan, I can have it?" At Kenshin's final, reluctant nod, Kenji began to bounce around in joy, not sure who to hug first. "Waaai! Yatta!"

Asaya-san laughed and folded up the little outfit to add it to their packages. Leading a very happy Kenji, Kenshin followed Okami-san to the counter to make their payments. Kenshin was only slightly dismayed at the price of the two yukata, but began to wonder how much Kenji was going to cost him for his clothing, food, and other needs. And Okami-san seemed to indicate that small children needed a _lot_... With another faint sigh, he replaced his hat and accepted the packages from Asaya-san.

"Here you are, Himura-han!" The plump seamstress leaned closer to him, still smiling as widely as ever but her voice much lower and more serious than he'd ever heard it. "No matter what happens, you take care of that little boy of yours, my carrot-top samurai. He is the most precious thing you have ever been given."

Taken aback, Kenshin glanced down at the child clinging to his sleeve, then back at the woman, nodding with a gulp. "Ah--hai. Wakatta, Asaya-san...I will."

"Good, good!" Just as surprisingly, the loud chatty seamstress had returned, stepping back to nod and bow to the departing group. "Arigato gozaimashita! And come back soon, Hana-han! Himura-han, don't let that little darling grow as tall as you before I see him again!"

Okami-san bowed shortly once more as the trio exited the shop, chuckling at the bemused look on her young companion's face. "Rather boisterous, wasn't she?"

"That's...an understatement," Kenshin replied quietly, already slipping back to the wary hitokiri once more in the street.

"She's a fearless woman, that's for sure," Okami-san commented with a sigh, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. "Remember? She makes the Choshu Ishinshishi soldiers' uniforms, without even her husband's knowledge."

"Aa." Kenshin glanced back once, at the door of the little clothing shop. Courage came in all shapes and sizes--from an imposing soldier to a short, plump woman who chattered endlessly in a loud voice. "She won't...mention Kenji to anyone, will she?"

Okami-san shook her head. "No, she has a great deal more discretion than that. She understood everything the moment I told her that Kenji-chan needed to draw no attention. Since she already knows who you are, it's easy enough."

"I see..." Now, Kenshin could spot the place where the older woman was leading them next. "Ah...sandals?"

Okami-san chuckled. "Sandals. Hopefully this stop won't take as long."

The place they entered next was a small, musty store that sold sandals of various types--wood, straw, and leather--as well as tabi and other sorts of socks. Kenshin had never been in this shop before; most of his footwear was secondhand.

But the atmosphere in this store was considerably chillier; almost immediately, Kenji clung to his hakama and stuck close. The hawkish gaze of the woman in charge of this shop was only emphasized by her sharp features and very black eyes--along with the steely glare of her beefy, jowly husband making more sandals in the rear. Okami-san did not smile at the woman's curt greeting, nor did she attempt to engage in conversation, simply stating their need for a child's waraji and a few pairs of tabi.

The shopmistress knew who he was, that much was certain; Kenshin could feel the coldness in her accompanied by alarm and traces of fear, though she hid it well. Her reaction to seeing Kenji at his side was only the faintest softening of that harsh gaze, along with a glimmer of surprise and disbelief in her ki.

"Hai, we do have small waraji," the woman replied to Okami-san's query. "I'm not sure if we carry any tabi quite that small; just a moment."

She turned and strode back to several drawers in the rear of the counter area, rifling through them for the footwear she was looking for. In a moment she returned with several pairs of both white and brown. "Here, lift him up on the counter and we'll see if these fit."

"Hai." Kenshin set his hat and packages on the wooden surface before reaching down to lift Kenji up beside them.

The shopkeeper picked up one small dusty foot and compared it to one of the little socks, frowned, then tried another. "How old is he?" she asked quietly, stiffly, as she worked.

"I'm three!" Kenji replied, removing the finger that had found its way into his mouth--also saving Kenshin the trouble of fishing for the answer.

"Sou ka..." Again, the woman's eyes softened just so, in a face as hard as leather. Then she was all business, as if nothing had happened. "There, I think this size will do. How many do you need?"

Caught unprepared once again, Kenshin blinked. "Ah...two, perhaps?" He glanced at Okami-san.

"Hai, two will do nicely," the proprietess of the Inn responded, giving him a praising smile. "And the brown ones, if you please; white socks are so hard to keep unstained with small children."

"So they are," replied the shopmistress, setting aside two pairs of little brown tabi and taking the rest back to their drawer. "Anata! Do you have those sandals?" she called back to her husband.

"Aa, of course I do! You needn't shout so, onna," the gravelly voice of the sandalmaker came back, as the steely-eyed man came to the front with a very tiny pair of waraji. "Oi, these should do. Been making sandals for thirty years, and never missed a sizing, I haven't."

If the shopmistress had a face of leather, then the sandalmaker himself had a face of stone, and towered a good head over even Okami-san, to say nothing of Kenshin. He was a burly-armed man with a gaze just as sharp as his wife's, and a manner even more gruff.

And despite that, Kenji grinned at him as the big man put the little straw sandals on his feet--and true to his word, they fit quite nicely. The child wriggled his toes in the straps and giggled delightedly, drawing the faintest twitch from the lips of the stone-faced sandalmaker.

"Aye, when I'm right, I'm right," he growled, ruffling Kenji's bangs with calloused fingers before turning his steely black gaze to Kenshin. "Boy, I know who you are."

Despite Okami-san's presence and his knowledge that this place was supposed to be safe, Kenshin's face went cold and blank and his right hand--currently holding Kenji to keep him from tipping off the counter--ached for the grip of his sword.

If he sensed the change, the sandalmaker didn't flinch. "You're in a dangerous life," the big man went on gruffly. "Don't let him get dragged into it. You'll lose him."

Unconsciously, Kenshin's hands clutched the little boy's body tighter. "I don't intend to let him come to harm," he answered evenly, meeting the older man's gaze.

The sandalmaker's hard eyes measured him for a moment, before the beefy man shrugged and turned to head back to his work. "Just a warning, boy," he tossed over his shoulder. "From a man who's been there."

Kenshin paid his bill to the shopmistress and tucked the two pairs of small tabi in his sleeve, returning a now-sandaled Kenji to the floor and his hat to his head. Packages once again in hand, they were on their way, following Okami-san once more toward the street.

Warning senses flaring, Kenshin hissed sharply and ducked back into the sandalmaker's store even as Okami-san stepped clear of the door and noticed the commotion just down the way. The woman had barely spotted the source of the trouble before she followed his lead, trusting his instincts without hesitation.

"Shinsengumi," the matron breathed, hanging close to his side as Kenji clung to his hakama once again. "I thought their patrol wasn't until later this afternoon..."

"They've changed it again," Kenshin whispered, keeping his stance still and casual but his eyes just around the corner on the troop of uniformed men coming down the street, scattering folk before them. "I met six last night--that's probably why."

"Sou ka..." Okami-san knew perfectly well what he meant by "met"--_killed_, a word he could not say in public, and would not want to say within Kenji's hearing.

The ken-ki of those men was confident and alert; Kenshin could sense their awareness and tamped down on his own aggression just in case there were any sensitives among them. The Third Captain was not with this group, so none of them could know he was here. As long as he stayed in the shadow of the sandalmaker's shop, none of them would see him.

Kenji was clinging unusually close to his leg, small fingers clamping into the hakama fabric like a crab. On impulse, Kenshin picked him up and held him close, noting how pale the boy suddenly seemed and how large his blue-violet eyes had become. Kenji wrapped his arms around Kenshin's neck and buried his face away.

_Masaka...can he actually...?_ Kenshin glanced from the boy to the passing troop of Shinsengumi and back again. _Is he picking up on the blood-soaked, bloodthirsy ki of those men? I've never seen him so frightened..._

Indeed, uncertain fear vibrated through the little boy's ki like shivers, along with a terrified awe at this darkness the child had never felt before. Kenshin watched the boy, feeling an unfamiliar sense of wonder that one so young could perceive such things in any way, without the sword-trainng that it usually required. Kenji's tremors had come even before the Shinsengumi troop had passed within his view; he had to have sensed them on some level, as Kenshin had.

The young man frowned, at once angry with the Shinsengumi for frightening the child and glad that in whatever year Kenji came from, such bloody things were not commonplace. _He fears that unfamiliar darkness...so then..._ A confused thought made him look down at the little boy in puzzlement. _...why did he not react this way to me?_

"Do you see the men in the blue and white haori out there?" he asked softly after a moment, drawing the child's gaze out once again.

Kenji clung tighter to his neck and nodded.

"Those are very dangerous men," he told him firmly. "Bad men. If you see them, you have to hide. Understand? Never let those men see you."

"Aa." The tiny boy nodded again and hid his face. He didn't even question the command.

Kenshin and Okami-san waited in the doorway of the sandalmaker's shop for some time, until the Shinsengumi had gone around the corner, out of this street and far from here. They would take no chances--not with Kenji along.

As they ventured out again, cautiously, Kenshin's previous deadly vigilance had been kicked up a notch by the adrenaline-inducing appearance of the unpredicted Shinsengumi patrol. His senses stretched to their utmost, to pick up such a threat before it occurred again, in case another were to come by. They would need the warning to get out of the street in time.

"I'm sorry for Shoudo-han and Tsuchi-han's curtness," Okami-san was saying softly, to which Kenshin was only half-listening. "They've been like that for a long time. But they're some of our staunchest allies--don't let their gruffness put you off. Their shop is a place you can go even if our safehouses are breached."

"I see." Important tactical information was filed away; the personal matters were disregarded--until Okami-san spoke again.

"They lost their son several years ago to some entangling Shogunate business, and they've been brokenhearted ever since," the matron said, barely above a whisper, glancing over at him. "I think he would've been about your age now, had he lived."

Ice cracked, Kenshin blinked. "Is that what he meant by...?"

Okami-san smiled sadly. "I think Shoudo-han wants you to keep Kenji far away from whatever you have to do for us. He knows what it's like to lose someone precious."

_And so do I..._ Kenshin glanced down at Kenji, who clung to his hand, as Tomoe's face flickered behind his eyes. He would be upset if something happened to any innocent child; he was not so far gone into the callous heart of a killer that he could deny that. Though...losing Kenji...it twinged at him and made his hand tighten on the smaller one in his, despite the fact that he'd only known this strange, precocious little boy for a day.

Was his heart so eager to tie itself to another, so soon after its last near-mortal wound? And why did it try to bind him so easily to this little redhead boy?

Their path down the street took them back in the direction of the Inn, toward the greengrocer and the fishmonger that Okami-san had promised to visit on their way back. No Shinsengumi appeared to threaten them, thankfully, and Kenji soon brightened to his cheerful self again, apparently recovered from the scare.

Kenshin stood guard waiting as Okami-san stepped into the greengrocer's to pick out her needed vegetables for the evening, with Kenji fidgeting at his side, playing at wriggling his toes in his new sandals and scuffing them on the dusty road to hear the sounds they made. Kenshin kept his ears tuned into the grocer's, to be prepared to leave when Okami-san was done.

He wasn't quite paying attention when Kenji began to squeal about something he'd noticed--"Omocha! Touchan, look! Toys!"--so he wasn't prepared when after a couple of impatient tugs on his hand Kenji _let go_ and scampered off down the street.

"Kenji--!" the young swordsman all but shouted, before his hitokiri instincts kicked him in the head for yelling in the middle of a street. Gritting his teeth, he hurried after the little boy as fast as he could go without obviously running. Fortunately, Kenji didn't go far--only a couple doors down, to a tiny shop that was decorated gaily with bright colors.

_A **toy** store...?_ Kenshin felt like hitting himself in the head now. Tucking the clothing packages under one arm, he poked his head in the door. "Kenji?" he called softly. "Come back here. You shouldn't run off like that..."

Kenji turned back to him from one of the shelves, brightly-painted toy in hands, grinning widely. "Lookit!" he squeaked. "What's this?"

Kenshin swallowed hard. "It's...a top."

"Oh!" The little boy blinked. "What's it do?"

"It spins."

Kenji turned the object over in his small hands a couple of times. "How?"

The top was only vaguely similar to the one Kenshin had left behind two years ago, in a little house somewhere in Otsu. It was a little smaller, a little taller, and it was painted in bright red and yellow. But the basic design was there, along with the memories surrounding his own toy that it unlocked.

It tightened his throat a little, the memory of that old wooden top; it was the only thing he'd ever been able to keep of his family, from long ago--his only connection to a life that had died with them, a happier life. And he'd left it behind as well, when he'd left the last of his happiness with Tomoe's grave...

"Here," he found himself saying, setting down the packages as he knelt at Kenji's side there in the store, "let me show you."

He gently took the toy from the child; a quick movement of his hands, and the little top began to spin there on the floor, much to Kenji's delight. The little boy jumped up and down and clapped his hands, giggling brightly.

"Ooo, lookit! Pretty!" A little hand reached out to touch, only to have the top wobble and fall under his fingers. "Uh-oh..."

Kenshin let slip a ghost of a smile. "You have to let it spin, once it's going. Otherwise it falls down."

"Oh..." The tip of a pink tongue showing, the boy wound up the string and made a stalwart attempt to get the top spinning on his own, with little success. "Waa! It won't go!"

"Hold it straight up, like this..." Kenshin found himself guiding the tiny hands gently, showing them where to hold the toy, how to toss it. "...and give it a good spin, like this. You have to do it pretty hard...oro! There it goes!"

Kenji squealed in delight at their success, watching the top wobble along with a proud childish grin. Kenshin stayed where he was, kneeling on the shop floor, letting the little boy lean against him and watch the top, mesmerized by the swirl of fiery colors.

Until he began to notice they were being watched themselves. His guard went up immediately, but he sensed only gentle amusement and satisfaction from the observer.

"It's been a very long time," said a soft, elderly voice from behind, "since I've seen a sword-bearing man with the strength to play with children's toys."

Kenshin was already turning as the man spoke, catching sight of a slightly-hunched, silver-bearded figure in the shadows near one of the shelves. The old man had been sitting on a barrel near the rear of the little square room, as quiet and serene as one of the dolls that sat beside him--no wonder Kenshin, urgently focused on Kenji as he had been, had not picked up on him! There was great age and great peace in this man; he was like calm water, smoothly slipping under most people's radars.

"How do you do?" said the old man, with a cheerful smile, when Kenshin did not speak. "Come shopping with your ototo-chan, hm?"

Kenshin looked down, letting his eyes find the top and his bangs hide his eyes. "He's not my little brother."

"Ah, I see--" The old man cleared his throat, standing up to offer a bow. "Pardon me, then. You don't look quite old enough to be..."

"I'm older than I look," Kenshin stated flatly.

"But not by much, eh?" said the old man, stepping into the more well-lit portion of the tiny shop, toward the front. There was a strange, wise glimmer in his eyes as he smiled gently. "These eyes are old, lad, but not that bad yet. You take great care with that child; I've not seen a man with your kind of heart in many years."

"Sou ka..." Kenshin left Kenji where he was--making delighted twirly noises and practicing with the top--to stand and face the old man. "You make these toys?" he asked, subtly attempting to shift the subject away from himself.

"Aa, that I do," replied the old man, with a pleasant chuckle. "Been making them for years, so all around these parts just call me Ganguta. I think I've forgotten my name by now."

Kenshin allowed a polite half-smile. "Very well, Ganguta-san. I am--"

"I know well who you are, Himura Battousai-san," Ganguta replied gently, stalling Kenshin's automatic reaction of defensive mask with his warm tone and crinkling eyes. "I may be a silly old toymaker, but I do keep up to date. My, my, the famous warrior, right here in my shop...I am honored indeed."

Eyes narrowing slightly, Kenshin read the old man's ki again--half on habit, once someone knew who he was, and half because he was alerted to something within the wise old spirit. "You are...more than just a seller of toys."

"Sou da na...I guess you're right," Ganguta chuckled easily. "You're very perceptive, young man. Once, long ago, I made weapons for the Shogun--spears, bows, and other things of wood and cloth and string and bits of metal."

Kenshin's right hand clenched at the mention of the old man's service to the Bakufu, but he made no move.

"I thought I was doing the people of Japan a great service," Ganguta went on, "making weapons for the Shogun's armies--for our defense. And perhaps I was, in a way; our nation has been safe and strong on the outside for many generations."

"What made you choose to make these toys instead?" Kenshin asked out of pure nagging curiosity, glancing around the tiny shop at the innumerable playthings of all shapes and sizes.

Ganguta smiled, as if that were just the thing he'd been waiting for. Stepping forward, he touched Kenshin's shoulder lightly and turned him about to look at Kenji, who was sitting on the packed floor with his top, cheerfully setting it spinning--a short, wobbly stumble of a spin, but growing stronger.

"There," said the old man softly, with that glimmer in his eyes again. "You see that? See his face, see the light in his eyes? He is happy. With even so small and simple a thing as a little top made of wood, he is happy." He glanced at Kenshin, still smiling warmly. "My weapons may have saved lives, and they may have ended them, but they could bring no one that kind of happiness. These toys can--they bring that light of joy to little ones like him, who will be our future."

Kenshin stared at the old man for several moments, finding himself in awe of that simple wisdom. He looked back at Kenji, who was so pleased with just the little top--and now, a red ball that he had discovered, and was trying to bounce. Ganguta was right--the happiness of the future was what they were all working for; his own sword, carving away the old world, and this old man and his toys, giving cheer to the children of today who would be the men and women who lived in the new world that would be someday.

The new world Kenji was born to be a part of.

"He is the reason you fight, isn't he?" asked the wizened voice quietly. "The stories always say that you are the greatest of warriors, but they have never told us common folk _why_ you choose to fight as you do..." The old man smiled widely again, surprising him. "If the future of your child is the reason, lad, then from the bottom of my heart, I commend you."

Kenshin opened his mouth to protest automatically--he was fighting for the people, for Tomoe's memory, so that her death as well as so many others' would not have been in vain--when he realized that, in his own way, Ganguta was right again. He had only met Kenji just last night--but what Kenshin fought for was Kenji's future, whether he'd known it before or not. He was wielding his killing sword for that reason--creating the world his son would live in--and only now, looking at the child that was his own future, did it dawn on him.

"Aa..." he said at last, slowly, tasting the wonder that realization brought, looking back to the old man. "I guess he _is_ my reason. The best reason I have, anyway..."

Ganguta patted his shoulder again, in a grandfatherly way. "That's a boy. You might be young, but your heart's in the right place; that I can see. Especially with that little one there--you keep him in your heart, and no matter how crazy the world gets, you'll always be headed the right way."

For the first time in Ganguta's sight, Kenshin let slip the smallest of smiles.

While the adults were talking, Kenji bounced the little red ball, jumping to catch it as the somewhat-uneven floor sent it off in different directions. Sometimes he caught it; sometimes it would roll to a stop against a shelf. He tried another bounce, grinning ear-to-ear--but squeaked as the red ball caromed out the shop door.

Uh-oh. Kenji knew that store-things weren't supposed to go outside until you _bought_ them--so he scurried out after the ball, desperate to catch it before it went too far. He was bent over reaching for it--almost caught it--

--when his small, sandaled feet stumbled on the dusty road and sent him careening down on top of the ball--no, on top of the light yellow kimono that filled his vision--

"Ara!" exclaimed a girl's voice, as small arms caught him before he could hit the street. "Daijoubu ka, chibi-chan?"

"Oro?" Kenji looked up into big blue eyes, blinking in surprise. "Ah...aa..."

It was a little girl--a couple years older than him, but still a little girl--and she set him up on his feet with a cheerful smile. "There you go! Watch out where you're running, so you don't fall."

"Hai," Kenji replied politely. "Gomen..."

"It's okay," said the little girl, still smiling. She bent and picked up the red ball that had rolled up against her small geta. "Here, is this yours?"

"Aa..." Kenji took the ball, nodding, still staring up at the girl. His expression had just begun to border on childishly thoughtful.

"Kaoru! Hurry along!" called a deep, male voice from several yards away, in the crowd.

"Hai, Otousan!" the little girl called back, before smiling at Kenji one last time. "I gotta go. Ja ne, chibi-chan!" With that, she hurried off after the tall stern man--who must've been her father.

"Don't wander off, Kaoru-chan," the tall man cautioned, gently but firmly, as the little girl took his hand and they headed off down the street. "We'll be going home soon--you don't want to get lost in Kyoto forever, do you...?"

Kenji watched them as they passed out of earshot, still staring quizzically. Cat-soft footsteps approaching beside him made him turn, looking up.

"What are you up to out here?" Kenshin asked softly, coming up beside the little boy, taking his hand. Kenji shrugged wordlessly; a quick glance at the pair that the boy had been watching told Kenshin nothing of particular note--a little black-haired girl only a few years older than Kenji, and a tall, strong-looking samurai with a focused, powerful ki leading her away by the hand.

As if sensing his brief gaze, the tall samurai glanced back only once; seeing the redheaded pair standing there, his measuring eyes took in Kenshin, then paused on Kenji for a heartbeat before he turned away once again, vanishing at last into the crowd.

"Kenji?" Kenshin, finding no threat in the tall man's gaze, looked back down to the little boy. "Let's go. Okami-san is looking for us."

At his words, Kenji remembered his purpose and thrust out his ball-filled hand with an urgent look. "Touchan, it got away! Gotta take it back!"

Kenshin smiled faintly at the little boy's concern. "Don't worry, you can keep it." He knelt there in the street to look the child in the eye. "The ball is yours now, and so is this."

At the sight of the red-and-yellow top, Kenji squealed in delight once more, forgetting his earlier worry. Kenshin stood up again and began to lead the happily-bouncing little boy back toward the greengrocer's, where Okami-san was standing, looking about somewhat confusedly. The hitokiri's wariness was around him like a shroud, but the set of his face remained a little gentler, at least for a very short while.

"Ah, there you are!" Okami-san sighed as they came up, giving Kenshin a somewhat scolding look. "For a moment I thought the Shinsengumi had come by while I was gone and kidnapped you both."

Kenshin's mouth quirked. "Not quite. We just got a little distracted."

Okami-san glanced down at the little boy, seeing his small hands laden with ball and top. "Ah, I see!" Her gaze toward Kenshin softened quite a bit. "Distracted indeed. A wise purchase, Himura-chan--and you'll see what I mean next time it rains and Kenji-chan has to be entertained indoors, or you risk encountering those mud-puddles I warned you about."

"Ah..." Kenshin's eyebrows went up. "I just thought...he liked them..."

Okami-san just laughed to herself. "Never mind, Himura-chan. It was very sweet of you to get those for him. Come on, let's go buy the fish."

Still somewhat puzzled, the expressionless youth followed the older woman toward the fish stall, a giggling little boy tagging after them both.

* * *

By the time they returned to the Inn, dinner preparations were about to commence. Okami-san thanked Kenshin for the escort to the market streets for the supplies she was bringing to the kitchen; Kenshin waved it off and thanked her instead for her assistance with Kenji's clothing. The older woman just smiled at him in that motherly way of hers and recommended he go put the new items away and let Kenji wind himself down before dinner.

So that's what he did, taking the little boy and their new packages upstairs to his room, dodging the men who wandered through the front halls like vultures circling before a meal. Once there, he gratefully dropped off his hat and armguards and haori. Opening his own small clothes chest, he made a little space for Kenji's new things, folding them carefully and in what he hoped was the right way.

With the window open, the room was pleasant and the air fresh. Leaving his wakizashi setting on top of the chest, Kenshin sat comfortably in front of the window with his katana leaning on his shoulder, watching Kenji play on the floor near him with his new toys.

_Ganguta-san was right,_ he thought, relaxed but alert as he leaned back against the windowframe. _With only a little ball and top, he is completely happy..._

The top provided Kenji great enjoyment, as the little boy practiced spinning it--still terribly wobbly, but Kenshin could see his technique improving even as he watched. The tiny hands would set it in motion, while wide blue-violet eyes stared at it, seeing how long it would go. Then the game became to try and pick up the top by its stem, without upsetting the spin and sending it clattering.

Kenshin watched with lazily half-lidded eyes, for this short while allowing himself to simply enjoy the clean evening air and the quiet antics of the child before him, listening to the drowsy birds outside, the faint wind in the garden trees, and the little boy's soft chatter to himself. A new game was invented before his eyes; the top became a target for the little red ball, which was rolled across the floor to see if it could knock the top off course. Kenji's giggles were like the soothing laughter of falling water, Spring rain on a pond. It was a pleasant distraction, freeing his mind of dark thoughts and painful memory.

And the sun sank away, as the former hitokiri enjoyed an hour of this perfect peace, this simple contentment, for the first time in two long, hard, bloody years.

A knock at the door brought Kenshin out of his odd waking doze, bringing him back to full awareness of the passing of time. "Hai?" he called quietly in response, sensing a familiar presence outside.

"Okami-san said to tell you that dinner is being served shortly," replied Sakura's voice politely.

"Arigato, we'll be along soon." As the woman's presence left, Kenshin heaved a sigh and rose to his feet, looking down at the little boy who had just stopped trying to balance the top on the little red ball--however ineffective that might've been. "Are you hungry, Kenji?"

Bright blue-violet eyes shone up at him. "Aa! Okami-san says dinner!"

"We better hurry then, na?" Kenshin found it hard not to let slip a smile at the child's enthusiasm, as he fetched his swords once again. Hand in hand, the redhead pair made their way downstairs, blending in with the knots of other men heading for the food.

As was his habit around others, Kenshin's face fell into the stony mask of a former hitokiri that most were accustomed to seeing. Most of the Ishin soldiers cleared out of his way without comment, though there were still many whispers and many, many eyes upon the child at his side. From the sense he was getting, many of them dearly wished to ask questions, to speak up, but their fear of him and his vicious reputation sealed their lips.

As he passed the hall to the kitchen, Okami-san flagged him down with a raised hand and a smile. "Himura-han, there you are!" She never addressed him by her pet name for him when the other men could hear. "And Kenji-chan as well. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Haaai!" Kenji hopped in place once. "We're having fish!"

"Yes we are," Okami-san agreed, "and I cooked some extra special just for you! Do you want to come and sit with me on the table and eat it?"

Kenshin found himself tensing in surprise, even as Kenji turned a smile up to him. "Can I, Touchan?"

"Ah...aa, if you want to..." Kenshin glanced up at Okami-san questioningly.

"You could use a peaceful meal to yourself for a bit," the matron told him kindly. "Just go relax and eat, and the girls and I will take care of Kenji-chan. You're expected right after dinner anyway--I'll have him cleaned up and ready for you when you're done."

"A-arigato..." Almost reluctantly, Kenshin let go of the tiny hand he held, allowing Kenji to bounce to Okami-san's side and accompany her into the kitchen.

He stood still there in the hall for several moments, feeling suddenly, strangely... cold, as if the sun had disappeared behind a cloud. Even with the other men still passing him by, filling the hallway, he felt alone--a deserted island in a warm ocean of people.

Then he shook himself and strode down the hall, frowning at his strange wistful thoughts. Keeping his chin level and his face impassive, he turned the corner and went straight into the dining hall without pause. He chose to ignore the changes in conversation and flow as he entered the room, as people noticed that Kenji was not with him.

"Oi, Himura!" called a familiar voice over the din of men settling down. A hand waved over near the wall; Hamano Akira was calling for him, from amidst a group of friendly faces.

Still feeling vaguely lonely, Kenshin gave in to impulse and went to sit with those few he hesitantly called his friends. Hamano scooted down a bit to make room between him and the next of their little group, grinning welcomingly as Kenshin sat down and released his swords.

"Say, where've you been all afternoon?" Hamano asked curiously, still grinning. "Me and the guys were looking all over for you. And where's Chibi-kou?"

_Little Red?_ Kenshin blinked at the taller samurai, wondering whether or not it was meant as an insult or a joking name, and whether he should take offense. "I was helping Okami-san today," he replied evenly, deciding to ignore it altogether. "And Kenji is eating in the kitchen."

"Sou ka...that's a shame," Hamano sighed. "The others kinda wanted to meet him."

Kenshin glanced over at the other three alongside them; to his immediate right sat Takagi Ryou, also grinning sheepishly, and beyond him was Tankei Ichijirou and Komiba Keisho. "Gomen," Kenshin said quietly. "Okami-san offered to take him--the meeting tonight--"

"I heard about that," Takagi interrupted nervously. "Katsura-sama and some other minor Choshu bigwigs, discussing the next month's plans. That's why dinner's late--there's a separate meal for those leaders going on down the hall."

Kenshin glanced at the other young samurai, one eyebrow raised in cool interest. Of all the men stationed here at the Inn, Kenshin was the youngest--and next in line for that dubiously honored place was Takagi Ryou, a little less than two years older. Takagi was a somewhat shy, well-meaning young man, clumsy but good-hearted; he wasn't too good with a sword but his redeeming characteristic for the Ishinshishi was his near-photographic memory. He was invaluable in that regard.

Because of that, the awkward young samurai had been sent on many an information-gathering mission, which his clumsiness did not help--but more often than not, Kenshin was sent along with him to protect him. Already in awe of the Battousai's reputation and startled that the famous hitokiri--_former_ hitokiri--was even younger than himself, Takagi nonetheless came to regard the red-haired swordsman as his savior, having been rescued from close scrapes several times in the course of his work. Takagi was a bit shy around him still, but Kenshin appreciated his kind, nonjudgemental heart and well-meaning, boyish ways.

"The meeting's nothing unusual," Hamano was saying, shaking his head. "The talk around the Inn says that the little akage's got the commanders in a flurry, 'cause he's shown up and interfered with their prime swordsman."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed slightly. "He's not interfering."

"I didn't say he was," Hamano replied calmly, slightly apologetic. "I just said that's what I _heard_."

"_I_ heard they're pissed as hell about the chibi," spoke up Komiba from his place at the end of their little group. "Not only interfering, but putting the whole operation in jeopardy 'cause he's a handle on _you_." The older man pointed unflinchingly at Kenshin.

"Komiba!" Takagi yelped, as always, askance at his friend's bluntness. One would think he'd be used to it by now.

Sharp-tongued Komiba Keisho was brusque and candid and hard for most to get along with; his wits were as sharp as his tongue and he never hesitated to use them for both a good verbal jab and a good move in combat. His specialty was the bow, and there was no target he couldn't take down in a single shot, having come from a long line of bowyers and archers. He apparently liked Kenshin for his tendency not to mince words or pull his punches, despite the fact that the younger man spoke far less; Kenshin simply appreciated the older warrior's flat honesty, and the fact that he hid nothing.

Their first meeting had been an accident and a near-catastrophe in a scuffle with a band of Shogunate guards, when two separate Ishin squads had gotten tangled up in a series of alleys and no one had been quite sure who was what or where. Komiba had let fly an arrow at a swift-moving shadow coming at him and his men--and that was the first time in his career that he had ever missed. Kenshin had seen the path of the arrow and dodged aside in a heartbeat, before leaping beyond Komiba and the other men to take down the Shogunate guards coming up on their rear. When the mess was sorted out and the mission over, Kenshin had discovered yet another loyal comrade.

"Take it easy, guys," Hamano soothed, smoothing Takagi's nervous feathers and tossing a look at Komiba, who simply snorted. "No sense in guessing--best to wait until we find out for sure."

"Surely they've invited Himura to the proceedings," Tankei Ichijirou interjected smoothly, unruffled by the whole affair. "After all, it is his son they're discussing, is it not?"

"He's still _here_, ain't he?" Komiba gruffed.

"I'm to meet with them after dinner," Kenshin replied, nodding to Tankei.

The thin, reedy-voiced Ishin soldier was the tallest of the group, as well as the oldest, though none of them were over thirty. He was most often the voice of reason for the group, being soft-spoken, deliberate, and careful of thought. He was one of the first, along with Hamano, to accept Kenshin after his emergence from the shadows of a hitokiri to the life of a common Ishinshishi soldier--though Kenshin could never be simply _common_. His even disposition was greatly appreciated by the red-haired swordsman, who could always trust Tankei for a wise answer.

The contemplative samurai called Battousai a juxtaposition of interests, citing his dislike for blood and death and yet the most violent and deadly nature of his art, at which he had no equal. Tankei seemed to be genuinely curious about him most of the time, as well as apparently liking his quietness as they spent time in thought together. And his presence did help moderate Komiba's tongue somewhat, as the two were old friends. Though Tankei was only an average swordsman, his intelligence and level of education were unsurpassed, as well as his handwriting--he was invaluable for his ability to mimic the brush-strokes of nearly anyone whose calligraphy he read.

"Did they tell you what they wanted you for?" Takagi asked, almost too eagerly.

Kenshin shook his head. "Okami-san relayed the message. The only thing I know is that my part in it does relate to Kenji's presence."

"They better not be thinking of pulling anything," Hamano said, his voice dropping to a rather dangerous timbre. "Katsura-san's on the up-and-up, and so's Takasugi and a couple of the others I guess--but the rest are slick, I can tell you that."

Kenshin glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I don't know..." Hamano shrugged uncomfortably--just as the food began to arrive. "I can't really say for sure--but one thing I don't want to see is that little guy being turned into a pawn in one of their power games. It sure isn't honorable to use a little kid."

Kenshin almost smiled at the other man's noble sentiments. Tall, handsome, well-educated, and everything a good young samurai should be, Hamano was the leader of this impromptu quartet that Kenshin had loosely become attached to--or rather, they had attached themselves to _him_, since each of them had somehow seen something in the ex-hitokiri that they were apparently drawn to. And he, for some reason, found them easier to trust and easier to speak with than the other men at the Inn.

They were a gathering of misfit geniuses; the Ishin's fiercest, fastest, finest _ex_-hitokiri, as well as three other single-talent soldiers, and a rich noble's son. And Hamano was the glue that held the group together; he was the one who saw their value together and drew them all in, making his friendships theirs. His fairness, kindness, and knack for leadership would take him far someday, if this bloody war didn't kill him first.

They were a strange group, Kenshin mused as the food was set before them and the conversation gave way to chewing. Hamano, the leader; Tankei, the wise man, the analyzer. Komiba was the the rapid tactician, and the one who stated what others were afraid to--while Takagi was their reluctant scout, and the voice of youth and innocence. And Kenshin...

Though he tried to hang back, invariably these men pulled him into their midst. He was not a part of their group, and yet he _was_; the walls came from his side, not theirs. Somehow, he was their quiet conscience, their reminder of _why_--and their sword man, their point man, the one with the skills and power to save their lives when the chips were down. They were bound to him--as they chose to be--and somehow, he to them. Just like a casual greeting from one of them could bring him over to sit and eat with them the way no others' could.

The other half of it was that no one else _would_. These four men alone had chosen to accept him as who and what he was, however willing or unwilling he might have been to let others become close to him. But no other men among the Ishinshishi had the courage to approach him, speak to him--even dare to tease him, as Hamano and Komiba often did! They were willing to treat him as almost normal--_almost_; there was still the faintest of reserve there, and their caution about his temper, never pushing too far. But even as that was unavoidable in this blood-soaked life they were all living, it wasn't enough to push them apart.

As the meal concluded and people began to leave, Kenshin--who usually ate faster than the others anyway--set down his chopsticks and gathered his daisho to stand up, taking a deep breath in preparation.

"Oi," Hamano spoke up, causing him to glance down. "You tell us what happens in that meeting, okay? If it's not top-secret or anything," he added, in acknowledgement of Kenshin's place in the innermost workings of Choshu Ishinshishi. "If they try anything, you should know...we're with you, hey?"

Kenshin blinked at him, seeing the nods of acknowledgement from the others. Touched by their concern--and for a child they hadn't even really gotten to meet yet!--he offered them a rare, thin half-smile, along with his own nod. "Arigato." Before he took a step, he paused one last time. "I'll...make sure you get to meet Kenji," he offered hesitantly. "Tomorrow, if time doesn't allow tonight..."

Hamano smiled, and Takagi grinned boyishly while Tankei nodded and Komiba snorted in his usual way. "Don't even worry about it," Hamano chuckled, waving him off. "I'm sure we'll catch up to you sometime."

Kenshin's half-smile tugged again, as he turned and headed back to the hall.

Since he was one of the first to finish eating, he saw far fewer men on his way back to the kitchen to fetch Kenji. There was a strange hush out here in the halls; the servant girls were large-eyed and scurrying, and no one was speaking unnecessarily. No one was at ease when so many Choshu leaders were present; the danger always ran higher. Without looking at any of the passing soldiers, Kenshin made his way to the kitchen door and poked his head in, looking for Kenji.

Inside, there was only the clamor of cleanup and the bustle of the harried kitchen staff. No sign of either the Inn's proprietess or a certain small red-haired boy. Slightly uneasy, Kenshin spotted Rika carrying used trays to the washtubs in back and called out to her.

"Rika-san, where's Okami-san?"

The woman set down her burden and glanced back at him, offering a weary but careful smile. "She took Akage-chan--er, I mean Kenji-chan upstairs a few minutes ago, Himura-han."

"Arigato..." Slightly perplexed now, Kenshin nodded to her and withdrew, padding toward the stairs. But maybe Kenji had spilled something on his clothes, making it necessary to take him upstairs to change them.

He was also somewhat bemused by the nicknames the little boy was apparently picking up. First Hamano, and now Rika-san and probably the rest of the girls as well...

As it turned out, Kenshin didn't have to go all the way upstairs to find Okami-san and her young charge. He had hardly come around the corner to the stairs when Kenji's voice called out to him from above; he glanced up to see the two just coming down the steps, hand in hand. Okami-san was smiling in that sly, wise way of hers--and Kenji was dressed in his brand-new gi and hakama, neat as a pin from head to toe and looking like a perfect miniature of Kenshin himself.

"What...what is this?" the young man asked, taken aback, as they descended to the first floor and stood before him. He reached out to lightly touch the high ponytail that Kenji's silky red hair had been done up in.

Okami-san was still smiling. "It's for the meeting, Himura-chan," she replied, as if it were obvious. "You _are_ going to meet the leaders of several important sections of the Choshu Ishinshishi. I thought it best that you and Kenji-chan make an impression--and remind those men that this is not just any child."

Kenshin swallowed, still staring at the small "samurai" that Kenji had been transformed into. The ensemble fit the boy well enough, if only slightly loose, and the deep blue set off his red hair and made his soft wide eyes seem even more violet. But the high ponytail hardened the overall appearance, making the child's features seem sharper and accentuating his resemblance to the feared Himura Battousai. All he lacked was the distinctive scar to finish the eerie charade.

"Like it, Touchan?" Kenji asked eagerly, spinning around once. "Like it? It's neat!"

"Aa..." Kenshin agreed reluctantly, more to appease the child than to speak the truth. The _truth_ was that it rather unnerved him, both the resemblance and the connection between them that it suggested. But Kenji giggled happily, pleased with his outfit, oblivious to the trepidation it evoked in the older youth.

Okami-san nudged Kenji forward; almost automatically, Kenshin reached to take the small hand. It was warm despite its size, and it fit into his grasp as if it belonged there--and with that touch, he no longer felt cold, no longer felt alone. Like the sun had returned from behind the clouds.

"Thank you for looking after him." Kenshin spoke to the older woman with a nod of a bow.

"You hurry on to that meeting," she told him, with slight undertones of worry tingeing her ki. "Katsura-han will be expecting you in the third rear chamber."

"Hai." Kenshin turned to go, only to be stopped by Okami-san's gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Watch yourself," she warned, barely above a whisper. "You can trust Katsura-han, but watch yourself and Kenji-chan. You take care of him in there; don't let those sly old hounds push you around."

He offered her the same faint, reassuring smile he'd given his friends. "Don't worry."

She sent them off with a smile and a nod; Kenshin led his tiny redhead companion down the hall toward the rear conference rooms, already preparing for what lay ahead. The warnings of both Okami-san and his friends had put him on-guard--he'd had far too much experience with the trickery and sidle-talk of high-ranking men, who played their game with highest regard for their own position and power, and far less for mens' lives.

Such men had already used and abused and made a disposeable tool of him; he would not allow them to do the same to Kenji, if such were their intent.

The walk down the darkened hallway seemed much too short.

_To be continued..._


	6. Future Interlude 2: Recollection

_**Disclaimer:** Himura Kenshin and all his friends (and various enemies) belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, who was wise and kind enough to create such an enjoyable series. Other original characters invented in this fic belong to me. But I'm still not getting any money out of this, so please don't sue._

**Rurouni Kenshin:  
The Reason **

Future Interlude 2: Recollection

**15th year of Meiji  
Mid-Summer 1882 - Tokyo**

"That...was Kenji...?" Kaoru sat in shock once again, alarming her companions--especially Kenshin, who was already rather worried and really had no idea what she was so surprised about.

"Oro?"

"What're you talking about, busu?" Yahiko demanded. "Hush up and let Kenshin finish the story!"

"Maa, maa..." Kenshin soothed at the youth, mostly to keep him from upsetting Kaoru's currently-delicate temper. "Ah...Kaoru?"

Finally, her eyes focused on him again, large and blank and wondering. "The little boy...with the ball...was Kenji..."

"Oro?" Kenshin blinked in surprise a second time. "Kaoru, are you alright de gozaru ka?"

"I think I remember that," she whispered, her hands clenching pale in her lap, her voice a strange mixture of loss and joy. A shadow of a memory was given a form--and she was given proof from her own experience that the tale Kenshin told was utterly true.

"Remember what?" Yahiko asked quizzically.

"One of those silly little ordinary things you completely forget," she replied softly, "unless someone reminds you--then it comes back like it was yesterday... I could never remember his face, just the red hair--it was so pretty, I thought, and I'd never seen anything like it before...so I never really forgot it; it was on Otousan's business trip to Kyoto, the first one he took me along--how could I forget? And the ball, too, I remember the ball...he almost fell and I caught him..."

"Kaoru," Kenshin said slowly, his own eyes quite wide as well. "Are you saying...you _saw...?_"

"And you!" Kaoru gasped, looking up at him. "_You_...were _right there_...right there and I never even _saw_ you..."

"'Course you didn't, busu," Yahiko scoffed. "He was a hitokiri back then, remember? You weren't _supposed_ to just _see_ him."

Under other circumstances, Kenshin would have fought back a laugh and reminded Yahiko that even the Hitokiri Battousai had taken walks through the market streets like any other fellow--especially considering the story he had just related to them, in which the younger Kenshin had been poking around in a _toy store_--but Kaoru's words had rendered his tongue nearly numb and frozen his mind with realization.

"The one Kenji was looking at," he breathed, awed, "like there was something odd he couldn't figure out. That little girl--that was _you?_"

Husband and wife stared at each other for long, breathless moments--while Yahiko looked on, nonplussed--before Kenshin set his forehead in his hands. His shoulders were shaking sporadically, and Kaoru immediately snapped out of her daze to reach out for him. She got her fingers clenched into his sleeve before she realized he was laughing--the strangest chuckle she'd ever heard from him.

"Kenshin...? What's wrong?" she queried, her own shock forgotten in the sudden overbearing concern that she'd somehow set him off again--tripped his guilt wire, or reminded him of something awful, or just broken that far-too-big, far-too-delicate heart of his. "Kenshin, you'd better talk to me right now...!"

"Masaka..." Between the out-of-place chuckles, he shook his head, still rubbing his forehead with an air of disbelief and near-dismay. "Ah...gomen, Kaoru--please, pay it no mind de gozaru..."

"_Ken_shin," she insisted, shaking him by the shoulder, the presence of her frown somehow much more reassuring than any gentle words--it meant that she was coming back to herself. "Mou!"

"Gomen, gomen--oro!" Kenshin caught her hands, finally managing to look up at her--somewhat--and fighting off a wry, near-embarassed grin. "I'm sorry, Kaoru, it's...you just..." He was still trying not to laugh. "You just made me feel very _old_."

She blinked for half a second before her pink-cheeked scowl returned. "Mou! Kenshin, I am _not_ a little girl any more!"

"Aa, wakatta, wakatta!" he was quick to agree, before she could raise a fist--or a bokken, if she managed to get ahold of one. "You've quite grown up de gozaru. You can be _very_ sure I know _that_."

"So...Kaoru saw Kenji back then, when she was a little kid," Yahiko pondered thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "And Kenshin saw Kaoru when _she_ was a little kid, but she never saw Kenshin."

"And that's so unfair, too! Mou...!" Kaoru frowned again, almost a pout.

"Perhaps it was better that way," Kenshin spoke softly, his eyes turned inward. "Better that you did not see me or know me as I was then. I would never want to frighten you, Kaoru..."

"Kenshin..." She gazed at him, her grip on his arm loosening but never quite letting go. Then, her face set with resolve--the resolve not to choose fear, the resolve to reach out to him. "I know I've...been afraid sometimes in the past. Afraid of you, when I know I really shouldn't be..." She glanced down. "Hitokiri Battousai was an assassin, but...I know he was not cruel. I know _you_, Kenshin...and I remember. Kenji...didn't look frightened."

"Kaoru...I..."

"I _saw_ him," Kaoru repeated, fighting back the glimmer of tears in her eyes at the thought that her child, her baby, was truly lost to her in the past--even if only for a short time. "I saw him, and he looked...okay. Safe. I think he was happy..."

Kenshin caught his breath at the smile she gave him--a smile filled with both pain and hope, loss and relief; bright, to hide her tears and doubts. "Kaoru..."

Yahiko finally exploded, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. "Okay, so what happened next? What about that meeting your boss wanted you to attend? What happened with Kenji?"

The elder two blinked in surprise at the rude intrusion of reality, but managed to compose themselves; Kaoru hid her last misgivings behind a sly smile directed at her husband, nudging him almost forcefully.

"Yes, indeed," she prodded, "what _did_ happen with Kenji? There's much more to tell, Kenshin."

"Ah--hai, hai..." Returning to his usual sheepish grin, the rurouni-turned-house-husband nodded in his silly way, a hand behind his head. "However," he continued apologetically, "I hope you've noticed it's getting rather late de gozaru. It's quite dark outside, and I haven't even heated up the stove. Perhaps we should see to the evening meal--and if there is no time left I could continue the tale tomorrow de gozaru."

"Dinner's a good idea," Yahiko admitted, rubbing his stomach--which seconded the motion with an audible growl.

"But I want to know what happened to Kenji!" Kaoru added, earning instant agreement from the young man. "I don't want to have to wait until breakfast!"

"Maa, maa...very well." Sighing, Kenshin gave in, rising to his feet. "I suppose I shall have to continue while we are eating dinner. If no one minds a slight delay while I prepare the food."

"Just hurry up already!" Kaoru demanded, fixing him with a firm blue-eyed glare.

"Aaah--hai!" Cowed, Kenshin scuttled for the kitchen to start cooking, anticipating a long night of storytelling ahead and the necessity of extra tea for his throat; he was going to be doing a lot of talking--more than he was used to, that was for certain. "Yare yare..."

_She can be almost as bad as Kenji,_ he thought to himself with a knowing smile. _That's probably why I fell for her so fast..._

_To be continued..._

_**Author's Note:** Hi y'all! I'm back for a bit. To anyone who's waiting eagerly for more of The White Dog, don't panic; I know chappie 32 is not in shape yet--I'm working on it. I am also spit-and-polishing the rest of the story for a sort of Grand Re-Opening hopefully very soon. _

Not forgetting this story either. Anyway, in answer to a few questions people may have about translations--I can provide some of the more difficult ones, but it's also not too hard to locate one of the online Japanese/English dictionaries. (http : dict . regex . info / cgi-bin / j-e / dict --just erase the spaces.) That should provide you with a basic lookup of almost any of the words. Here's some that might be a little harder to find (especially Kenji's local "nicknames"):

ki - _spirit, energy, aura_  
chiburi - _traditional sword action, snapping blood off the blade with one quick stroke before sheathing it._  
aa - _"yeah"_  
Touchan - _I would hope most of you know this one--for those that don't, it's a kiddie way to say "Daddy."_  
ara - _the proper exclamation that Kenshin's "Oro!" comes from--his is a sort of country-bumpkin corruption of it._  
sou da na - _"I guess so / isn't it so?"_  
sou ka - _"is that so?"_  
sou desu - _"indeed"_  
maa, maa - _"easy now," "there there,"_  
ano - _"say..." "well..." "err..."_  
nan da yo - _gruff "whaddya want?" or "what the hell?"_  
un - _"yeah" or "uh-huh"_  
daisukinai - _"I hate you!"_  
ite/itai - _"ow!"_  
hontou ni daisuki - _"honest, I like you"_  
wakatta - _"I understand."_  
wakarimashita - _polite "I understand."_  
yawarakai - _very soft_  
obiete - _terrified, or having a nightmare_  
Youokoshi - _shopkeepers' welcome in Kansai dialect_  
Ganguta - _toymaker_  
asobo - _"play!"_  
busu - _"ugly," "hag"--everyone in RK-dom should know **this** one!_  
chibi - _noun: little one, kid, squirt; adjective: little, tiny, small, miniature_  
chicchai - _tiny, little, wee_  
masaka - _expression of disbelief_  
gaki - _kid, brat_  
k'so/kuso - _"shit," "damn"_  
yosh'/yoshi - _"okay!" "good," "all right"_  
ryu - _dragon_  
Chibi-kou - _"Little Red"_  
Akage-chan - _redhead-chan (I pray y'all know what "chan" is) _

Later all!


	7. Part 4: I Wish That I Could Take It All ...

_**Disclaimer:** Himura Kenshin and all his friends (and various enemies) belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, who was wise and kind enough to create such an enjoyable series. Other original characters invented in this fic belong to me. But I'm still not getting any money out of this, so please don't sue._

**Rurouni Kenshin:  
The Reason **

Part 4: I Wish That I Could Take It All Away

3rd year of Keiou  
Early Spring 1867 - Kyoto

Already, the veil of the hitokiri was falling shut around him.

Kenshin's steps grew silent, his breaths deep and even, his ki lowering to a fine, deep, icy line--as though he were preparing for battle. And in a way, he very nearly was.

Kenji seemed to pick up on the growing chill, walking close by his side in quiet tabi-clad steps, eyes large and strangely bright in the dimness of the back hall. Kenshin glanced down at him, seeing those eyes staring at him questioningly, and made a brief gesture for silence as they approached the door.

"...only _just_ decided to inform us of this when we arrived this afternoon!" an indignant, nasal voice was speaking loudly. "When this could destroy the last two years of scraping and planning we've had to do on account of that defective--!"

"I only informed you of this development this afternoon because I myself was only informed _last night_, gentlemen," responded Katsura-san's voice, stern and strong and even. "I have not even been able to report to the other leaders of Choshu. Besides, none of our work was endangered by Himura's decision to abstain from the duty of hitokiri. We already had another standing by for the inevitable day when our prime fell; it was simple enough to replace him, and all the better for us that the replacement did not mean the loss of such a fine sword for our cause."

The nasal voice spoke up again. "You make it sound like it's a good thing there's _two_ of them running around now--"

"Feh! Two or three or ten--so long as the work is getting done, who cares?" interrupted another, much gravellier voice. "As long as they can be put down properly when their usefulness is run out. And your '_former_' hitokiri is pushing it, Katsura. There's no such thing as a _former_ hitokiri and you know it--and you have _that_ just romping around on guard duty and service missions, wasting a perfectly good sword on--"

"It was Himura's decision to stop working as our primary hitokiri," came another voice--a smooth, low tone that Kenshin recognized very well. Takasugi of the Kiheitai--the man who had discovered his talent and handed him to Katsura. "As efficient as he was at his old job, I still think his skills were wasted on single assassinations. His sword style is designed for one man against an army--what better use is there for him than the front lines, rather than the shadows?"

"Well spoken, my friend," Katsura seconded, sounding pleased.

"That's just the problem!" said the nasal voice. "He just up and _decides_ he's not going to be our prime hitokiri any more? Like he just got tired of it! What if he just _decides_ he's not going to wield his sword for us any longer? Half our forces would die out in a month without him! I've too much at stake in this for him to just walk away--"

"Hitokiri or not," the gravelly voice growled, low and dangerous, "whether he's killing men on a list or men in the field, his job is still to kill the enemy for us. So tell me, Katsura--will he continue to work for us? Does your little pet dragon still kill on command?"

Kenshin decided that now would be a good time to make his presence known, before those men ignorantly said anything more that would make him _really_ angry. He knocked stiffly on the doorframe, as the room inside fell to a sudden, pronounced hush. "Sumimasen, Katsura-san," he said lowly through the door, into the silence.

"Ah, that would be my _pet dragon_ now, Daionjou-san," Katsura said, rather scathingly. The unspoken was obvious: _Would you **really** like to find out if he kills on command?_ "Come in, Himura."

Obediently, Kenshin slid aside the door. Five faces turned to look at him, one of them paling sharply upon meeting his narrowed eyes--a large, heavy-jowled man that was probably the owner of that gravelly voice. Three of the faces reflected the fear and awe that rang in their ki, for the brief moments it escaped the owners' notice; Katsura's broadcast satisfaction, and Takasugi's gladness as well as surprise. He wouldn't have thought the Kiheitai captain was happy to see him again, and was privately rather pleased to see that his former commander seemed still to be in fairly good health.

Then all eyes tracked to the tiny boy half-hiding behind his leg, and the awe turned to renewed shock and displeasure.

"Well, come in already," Katsura spoke up, breaking the spell at last. "Sit down, Himura; we have a lot to discuss."

Kenshin stepped forward and slid the door shut behind him, never letting go of Kenji's hand. He strode forward to take a place nearer to Takasugi, facing more against the three men he didn't know than in a real circle with them. Kenji sat down quietly beside him, uncertain but at least keeping still, big-eyed at all the finely-dressed, imposing men.

"So this is the chibi Battousai," the nasal voice said scornfully--coming from a rather long-nosed individual sitting beyond Katsura-san. "Honestly, Katsura, a child that small isn't even _useful_, let alone--"

"His usefulness is not what we are here to discuss," Katsura cut him off with a stern look. "I believe you all were wondering about Himura's continued performance. Why not ask him yourselves?"

Paling slightly, the two outspoken men glanced at Kenshin, who merely leveled a glare at them and replied. "I fully intend to wield my sword for the Ishinshishi. I have already given Katsura-san my word. Until your place is won, I will still kill for you."

"What about the brat?" the gravelly-voiced man--Daionjou--said roughly. "What are you thinking, bringing a kid into Choshu's primary Kyoto safehouse in the middle of a conflict? He's in the way!"

"Not to mention he's a security risk and a secrecy nightmare," the nasally man added indignantly. "All it takes is one careless moment for a Shogunate guard to spot that hair and he'll give us all away!"

Kenshin did not speak, preferring to allow Katsura to solve the diplomatic entanglements. But instead of Katsura, it was the third stranger--the one who had not said a word in Kenshin's hearing yet--who spoke to diffuse the situation.

"Peace, peace," said the third man in a soft tenor voice, his tones deceptively gentle compared to the hard-edged, calculating ki he exuded. "I believe a solution can be easily reached. Himura-san is too skilled a warrior to let such a thing slip, but mishaps do occur..." He offered a sympathetic smile to the young swordsman. "Remember what we discussed before, Kousei-san, Daionjou-san? Perhaps that option can put us all at ease."

Kenshin's face didn't change, but Katsura raised an eyebrow. "Speak, Mokushi."

The soft-voiced man nodded briefly. "From what I gather, something has happened which has placed the child in Himura-san's care, and the mother is no longer available. I'm sure we already know that there is no place safe in Kyoto for a child such as this--and apparently Himura-san does not wish his son to be simply pawned off as an inconvenience to any available orphanage."

Kenshin's eyes narrowed; aside from making him irritated at their sidewinding ways, their talk was upsetting Kenji. The boy's ki was filling with uncertainty, and it was probably a wonder he hadn't spoken up. But he did huddle ever closer to Kenshin's side under the sharp, scornful gaze of the two loud men.

"Go on," Katsura said evenly, not betraying his opinion on the matter. Takasugi was watching carefully, the other two with interest.

"We could take the child to the heart of Choshu," Mokushi offered, a little too eagerly. "There are friends of my family who would be honored to take the boy in during this conflict--perhaps I could even keep him in my own household. He would be safe, and far from these bloody battles."

Kousei and Daionjou were both nodding approvingly, flashing each other glances and smiling far too easily. Kenshin's only reaction was a tightening of his mouth, but his suspicion deepened.

"Send him away to Choshu territory?" Katsura mused thoughtfully, shrewdly, glancing at Takasugi as he did. "You're right, he would indeed be safer away from Kyoto..."

The two noisy men were nodding once again. "Hai, Katsura," Kousei seconded eagerly, his smile almost a leer. "It is a good decision! A wise option, Mokushi, a wise option! The boy will be safe, and Himura's performance guaranteed!"

"Kousei," snapped Daionjou sharply, warningly, as Kenshin fixed his eyes on the large-nosed lord.

"It would be best for the boy," Mokushi offered, with a smile at Kenshin. "He would have the very highest quality of care, I can assure you."

"Touchan?" spoke up a very small voice. Kenshin glanced down quickly, as did all the others, focusing on the little boy at his side. "Don't wanna go away," Kenji asserted thinly, wide-eyed and terribly worried. "Wanna stay with Touchan." His tiny hands clenched tight in Kenshin's sleeve.

Katsura and Takasugi shared another glance, their ki in growing agreement--but not necessarily in agreement with the three others. As the political leader of Choshu fixed the three men with his even glance, Takasugi smiled faintly at the little boy beside Kenshin.

"The decision is Himura's, not mine," Katsura said at last, confidently.

Kenshin met his commander's eyes, reading the trust and support in his ki. He glanced back over at the three men who hung on his decision, waiting for his words--looking indignant that a mere soldier should be given this choice over samurai of higher station.

They _wanted_ him to send Kenji with them--away to Choshu, miles and miles away into the south country. Miles away from where he might need to be should that light-tunnel come back for him. Miles away from the Inn and Kyoto altogether, though that was the purpose, but Kenshin would not be able to see him at all.

And somehow, that thought stung more than it should have. Far more, and it was almost frightening--both how the thought made his hands clench, and how strongly he felt about having the little boy stay. He _wanted_ to keep Kenji near, and that feeling had a vehemence to it that surprised him.

He looked down at the child again, into large blue-violet eyes that were watching him just as earnestly as those other men, also hanging on his decision, pleading...

"Touchan...?"

Those three men wanted him to send Kenji away--into their grasp, within their control. And from their earlier harsh words and their almost-drooling eagerness, Kenshin had no illusions as to why.

They were hanging on the hope that he cared about Kenji enough to be bound to the boy's well-being. And it was his unconscious care that they could see the moment he'd stepped into the room--holding Kenji's hand so tight, seating the boy so close next to him, guarding him in a way that any sword-trained eye could see.

They wanted a _hostage_. They wanted his son to guarantee his cooperation--to force him to follow their orders unquestioningly, even to become a hitokiri again. They wanted, as Komiba so bluntly put it, a _handle_ on him--a leash for a powerful "dragon" only dubiously tamed. And that manipulation--the use of an innocent child to try to control him--made him _angry_, even more than Daionjou's careless, cruel comments earlier.

Kenshin didn't even stop to question his mind's unconscious acceptance of the little redhead child as his son.

"No," he said quietly, in a voice as soft as steel, as the hard deadly eyes of the Hitokiri Battousai fixed on the three minor Choshu troop leaders. "I will not send him with you."

Immediate protest broke out--nervous, but noisy--most of them appealing to Katsura to override the young swordsman's decision.

"Katsura, really, he's endangering the entire--!"

"--and if that little brat falls into _their_ hands what do you think--?"

"--please, Himura-san, think of the well-being of the child--"

"I said _no_," Kenshin all but snapped, cutting them all off pale-faced; he had raised his voice in a meeting for the first time in anyone's memory, from the soft whisper of a drawing blade to the sharp ring of steel cutting flesh and bone. Even Katsura looked somewhat startled, as Kenshin glared from gaze to gaze and spoke his final judgement. "He stays with me."

Kenji made a little happy noise and leaned closer to his side, as the three men subsided into nervous, wary silence, suitably cowed by Kenshin's terse words.

"Himura has made his decision," Katsura spoke into the quiet. "Would any here like to contest it?"

Looking at the deadly-eyed, unmoving former hitokiri, it was easy to puzzle out the threat behind the Choshu leader's seemingly-innocuous question: _Does anybody here want to try to take that child from him?_

It was amazing what Katsura-san could say without saying. All three of them shook their heads, again, intimidated into silence by Kenshin's glare.

"We are already seeing to the boy's care here at this Inn," Katsura informed them flatly. "The Okami has informed me that the staff is quite willing to help out in regards to this situation. Himura's performance will not be affected."

The others looked skeptical but reluctantly agreed, scowling at the unsupportive Takasugi, who was clearly on Katsura's side.

"If there is no further business tonight...?" Katsura went on, his tone friendly but his eyes suggesting that any further business tonight would be dismissed without hearing anyway. "Good, then we'll continue this after breakfast, when we've all..._rested_ from our long journeys. You will soon see just how well Himura will continue to carry out his duties."

Kousei and Daionjou huffed through their partings indignantly, stomping out the door, while Mokushi was all pleasantries again, bowing politely as he went. Takasugi remained by the door as Kenshin and Katsura stood up--he was apparently amused by the whole affair, if his faint, humorous smile was anything to go by.

Happy once more, Kenji clung tightly to Kenshin's hand and grinned tiredly at everybody, reassured that no matter what those men said, his Touchan wasn't going to send him away anywhere.

Kenshin finally had time to look Takasugi in the eye and offer the man a nod of greeting; the Kiheitai commander just smiled sardonically at him, glancing at Kenji. "Cute kid, Himura," he said casually, with a twitch around his mouth. "You'll have to tell me _all_ about it tomorrow."

Kenshin blinked, startled--but Takasugi was already gone, chuckling to himself as he headed off down the hall.

"Kousei, Mokushi, and Daionjou couldn't care less," Katsura-san spoke up quietly, "but Takasugi knows you a little better--and more importantly, he knows exactly how old you are and where you came from. He's a little more suspicious of the affairs of things--such as how you managed to hide Kenji for three years."

Kenshin's eyes widened somewhat. Kenji blinked puzzledly with droopy eyes. "Hide? I didn't hide."

Katsura chuckled, looking back up at Kenshin. "Don't concern yourself, Himura. Takasugi is a man who believes what he sees--and he saw Kenji tonight. That's all the evidence he needs."

"Sou ka," Kenshin responded, almost a sigh of relief. Common curiosity aside, he didn't want his former commander thinking he had lost his mind--the very idea of children falling out of thin air. It was bad enough Katsura-san couldn't believe him.

"Truth be told, I was surprised at your insistence tonight," the Choshu leader commented thoughtfully. "I had assumed from our conversation last night that you might have jumped at the chance to send the boy out of this place, but.."

"Not to them," Kenshin spoke quickly, seconded by a muffled "Not goin' away!" from Kenji.

"I can agree with you there." Katsura's gaze softened. "However, I can agree with _them_ in that there is danger in his staying here. I know you wouldn't trust them with Kenji, but would you perhaps consider the same offer from me? I have a place or two in mind where we could send him, where I can promise you he would be looked after with no ulterior motives. I will give you my solemn word he would be safe."

"Katsura-san..." Kenshin stared at his commander in grateful surprise for a beat. "I...I...a-arigato, but..."

"You need time to think about it?" Katsura asked, almost curiously surprised.

Kenshin looked down at the tired little red-haired boy hanging on to his hand. That feeling was still there, still strong enough to surprise him. "I don't think...I want to send him away at all..."

Katsura regarded the redheaded pair for a few moments, taking a deep breath. "You are determined to keep him with you, then?"

"Aa..." Kenshin's bangs hid his eyes, even as his hand tightened on Kenji's. He couldn't even begin to explain it, even to himself. It was like that feeling of emptiness and loneliness when Okami-san had taken Kenji to dinner--it was a hard knot that beat in the center of his heart at the thought of the little boy going away. A part of him was afraid of the strength of that feeling that was growing, rooting itself into him without his consent--a part of him was angry that his heart was so easily swayed into caring so much, into tying its fate to that of another so soon, so readily.

"Very well." Katsura straightened at last, recalling Kenshin's gaze to his own. "Somehow I expected as much. Then he will be under your care, Himura. And I expect there will be no loss of performance on your part. Am I clear?"

Kenshin nodded smartly. "Hai."

"I may have taken your side in front of the others, but as the Choshu Ishinshishi leader here I must see to it that what must be done is done, and in that regard I can show even you no mercy, Himura," Katsura told him, almost sadly. "And for that, and for the sorrow it has cost you before, I am truly sorry."

Kenshin looked down again. "Hai..."

"I will speak to the paymaster regarding your salary for this month," the taller man went on, his tone lightening somewhat. "You will be given an addition to your regular pay as long as Kenji remains with you. I should think you'll be needing the extra money to afford the added costs of keeping a child."

Surprised, Kenshin stared at him blankly for a second. "Katsura-san...!"

The corner of the Ishin leader's mouth quirked. "Okami-san tells me there are many things children need, which you have yet to acquire."

"Ah...hai..." Kenshin fought off a flush. "She's been a great help..."

The sound of a tremendous yawn made the two look down, at an increasingly-sleepy little boy leaning against Kenshin's leg with the tired indifference of a child who's too out of energy to fidget and too drowsy to complain. Kenji merely rubbed an eye and looked up at them, with an expression of bored, sleepy patience that was almost comically serious.

"And _he's_ behaved very well for you during this entire unpleasant meeting," Katsura said amusedly, glancing back up at Kenshin. "I know of a few small children who would have stomped and whined and shown you the far less pleasant side of parenting had they been asked to wait and be still so long."

Kenshin blinked in surprise, suddenly feeling rather grateful. "Aa, he's been very patient...most of the time," he added, a little ruefully. "I think it's been a long day for him."

"So it has, I'm sure..."

As Kenshin leaned down to lift the tired little boy into his arms, Katsura watched with an expression that was...almost wistful, yet dark and sorrowed. "Himura..."

"Hn?"

"Tomorrow night..." The Ishin commander's eyes seemed somehow very weary, hollow and sad and far too old for his still-young face. "There will be a job for you tomorrow night."

All at once, any trace of ordinary Kenshin that had been creeping out of the mask was hidden once more behind the eyes of a hitokiri--always the ice-cold eyes, whether _former_ or not. "Hai," he responded, his voice gone smooth and emotionless again. "I will hear the details in the morning."

Katsura nodded silently, and Kenshin went on his way.

* * *

Once again, Kenshin reached his room with a very tired little boy mostly-asleep in his arms. It was still early--and at least for Kenshin's usual hours, it was quite early indeed--so there were still a few men in the halls, coming or going from the rooms on the second floor. All of them hid looks of either shock or amusement or a mixture of both as the ex-hitokiri passed them by, a small red-haired head resting on his shoulder.

In his room, with the door closed and safely away from the prying eyes and ears of so many others, he was finally able to begin to relax. The icy shell of the hitokiri began to wane, first from his eyes; then, slowly, from his face, as he set the sleepy, wobbly little boy down and started to help him undress. He pushed the dark thoughts away and concentrated on the child, using him as a wall to keep the depression at bay.

He left his wakizashi atop the clothes chest, as was his custom, and set his katana within easy reach on the floor next to him. And sitting on top of the folded futon was an offering that made Kenshin smile--a clean white sleeping yukata like the one Kenji had borrowed before, folded carefully and left there no doubt by the caring hands of Okami-san.

Kenji yawned enormously as he obediently raised his arms for his top to be removed, too tired to bounce or smile or even to protest the idea of going to bed as children often did. He'd had a full day for such a young boy--though Kenshin was not a good judge of what was too full a day for any child--what with getting up so early, playing in the yard all morning, the trip to the market in the afternoon, and the rather intimidating meeting after dinner.

"There you go," Kenshin murmured, finishing the last little tie of the sleeping robe and smoothing the cloth. Kenji merely yawned in reply, rubbing his sleepy eyes and scratching his head as Kenshin removed the hair tie that bound the little ponytail.

"I bet you're tired," Kenshin offered quietly, reaching to pull down the folded futon and spread it out. "It's been a big day, na?"

"Not tired," Kenji retorted, without much conviction--apparently a rebuttal on general principle, at which Kenshin gave the briefest, smallest hitch of a chuckle. The little boy was so tired it could be seen in his ki, dimming and swaying like a tree about to fall.

"Hai, hai," he responded agreeably, as he tucked the boy in and pulled the covers up warmly, smiling at the sleepy face. "No, you're not tired at all."

"M'_not_," Kenji asserted, even as his eyes were falling shut. "Oyasumi, Touchan..."

Kenshin offered one of his rarest smiles--a true one, less of a ghost, more real as it hovered on his lips for an instant. "Oyasumi, Kenji."

As always, the room was only lit by the moonlight coming in the open window--more than enough for Kenshin's eyes. He sat still, motionless as the hunter, watching silently as Kenji slowly drifted into sleep as peacefully as a sunset. The tranquil little ki was full of the utter, unthinking trust and easy abandon of a child at rest in a place he felt was safe.

The small face was washed pale by the silvery moonlight, highlighted further by the depth of the shadows around it. Kenshin watched, stared, with silent patience; observing, thinking, wondering, as if waiting for some answer to which he didn't even know the question.

_"...He is the most precious thing you have ever been given."_

Almost of its own volition, his hand crept up to touch the soft skin of the little boy's pale forehead, smoothing back silken bangs; a gentle gesture he had never _learned_ but somehow _knew_--from a place inside so deep that he couldn't see the bottom, intrinsic to that something within him that was already claiming this child. Kenji sighed in his sleep, never waking under the touch, even as the sword-calloused fingers trailed down one elfin cheek.

_He really is...precious,_ Kenshin thought, somehow captivated by the small face, by the baby-softness of the skin under his fingertips. A tiny precious flicker of life--one little boy among thousands in existence, but somehow more important than all of those, than _everything_. And he wondered over and over again how, _how_ had this child whom he had only known for a single day become so inexplicably priceless to him.

It was that question, and the answer to it, that awed and frightened him the most. _He is...mine. Somehow...someday...he is my son..._

He swallowed hard; the answer was so easy and so difficult--such a simple thing, yet so profound. It was like his feelings for Tomoe--but different still, reaching him in different places, tugging at different parts of his heart. But never less powerful--no, never any less intense.

More so. More potent--and frightening, to realize that it had come about in only _one day_. Terrifying and confusing, as part of him flung itself headlong into that precious connection with the fervor of an orphan child clinging to any hope of love and trust--while another part screamed in protest, hating the fact that he was leaving his heart open to the sword of love and death once again, crying out against his disregard of Tomoe's memory for the sake of one child...

One child--his son, though flung through time to this place, this day, this moment, by some unknown force. His own flesh and blood, no matter from where or when, with the red hair and purplish eyes and small frame and sharp-chinned little face to prove it.

_I am not forgetting Tomoe,_ he asserted to himself--to that protesting part of himself that didn't want to believe and didn't want to hope. _I will never forget Tomoe. But I can't just ignore Kenji...I **can't**..._

He still stared down at the innocent sleeping child as his hand reluctantly withdrew, tenderness warring with hesitation and faint distress on his briefly-unmasked face. What he felt for this one boy alarmed and overwhelmed him, a feeling that came so quickly and easily, somehow stronger than any of his griefs or indecisions or doubts.

Like a surprise attack that left him dazed and confused and even terrified, this attachment had crept up on him and wrapped itself around his heart before he'd even noticed--growing on him through baths, through meals, through shopping and toys, and sweet childish antics, and a little voice saying "Touchan!" and simply _knowing_ who this boy was--and by the time he had truly realized, it was too late to free himself from its entanglement. He could not let go, even for the sake of a man he had trusted for years, even for the sake of his cause.

For in that cheerful little face and small bright ki was someone who trusted him implicitly without hesitation or reserve, who needed him in a way he had never been needed by anyone, who smiled at him and reached out to him and even tried to help him heal. A faith in him that was humbling, an innocence that awed him, a responsibility that shook him to his very core. This entire little life, simply dropped into his trembling hands--bloody, tired, unworthy hands; his to care for, his to protect. His someday-child, whose fate right now depended on him.

_I can't ignore this,_ he told himself, pushing away the angry, protesting part that railed against this glimmer of hope from the future. _He is mine, now or later, however he got here. He needs me. I can't forget my past--I can never forget Tomoe--but if this is my future...if **he** is my future..._

"I will protect you," he whispered, barely a breath, as he stared down at the small sleeping face. _I will protect you with my sword and my life, until you can return home to where you belong._ He smiled faintly, almost ruefully. _I'm sure I miss you, whenever I am..._

The moon was still moved as slowly as the ages, shining through the open window, tracking silver pools across the floor. At last, reluctantly, Kenshin left the side of the futon to sit up against the wall, at guard between the door and the child. His son. His most precious thing...

For a time, as the night deepened and the ki within the Inn dimmed away, he watched the small form curled up on the futon; watched the lazy flicker of the tiny ki in dreams, watched the steady rhythm of breathing in and out, listened to each small, reassuring heartbeat--just for this moment, he simply watched the child _live_.

And in time, the peaceful rhythm of that life soothed him into sleep. And though his mind wandered into dark dreams lit only by the appearance of a brilliant light and the arrival of a strange, startling, life-changing little red-haired boy, he remained on-guard to the slightest threat--more vigilant even in sleep for the sake of this child, rather than himself alone. At even the smallest danger, the most silent approach, he would wake in an instant ready for battle, ready to protect his son.

* * *

Sometime in the night, as the moon fell toward the horizon and the world lay sleeping, something small and quiet shuffled forth, alerting the hitokiri senses of the room's guardian. But the ki was harmless and familiar--a bright sleepy innocent spirit approached, questing and nonthreatening, so the hunter's instincts subsided, welcoming the second presence protectively.

Less than half-awakened, Kenshin felt a small form crawl into his lap, dragging something--a blanket--along with it. With a sigh, the little one curled up like a kitten to sleep once again, and though Kenshin's subconscious acknowledged Kenji's presence, he wasn't awake enough to register that the boy ought to go back to his own bed. Besides, that selfsame subconscious had already accepted Kenji's proximity, even embraced it, knowing that the small child was much safer, much warmer when held so close--and comforting to his own heart as well.

So Kenji remained where he was, undisturbed, drifting once more into contented sleep, soon followed by a tired young swordsman--whose dreams tonight became far lighter than they had been for many years past. And the hand once clenched tight around his sword even in slumber relaxed to let that same sword sag against his weary shoulder--while his fingers found their resting place in the little boy's soft red hair.

* * *

"_Nothing_," spat the Captain of the Third Troop, as he and Okita trudged back to the Shinsengumi headquarters with their respective patrol squads, in the wee hours of the predawn morning. "Absolutely nothing!"

"Maa, it's only the first night, Saito-san," Okita soothed, knowing well his good friend's temper. The tall captain had gone out expecting to see some blood--and with none drawn, he was edgy and restless. "And the rebels _did_ just have a close call last time, so they may be keeping their heads down for a few days."

"Close call," Saito snorted, ignoring the weariness in his feet and concentrating on his impatience. "You call _that_ a close call? The dogs ran while the dragon stayed to fight our wolves. It wasn't a close call--it was a slaughter."

Okita shrugged tiredly--even if his fellow captain preferred to cover his tiredness with anger, Okita himself had no bones about yawning widely as they passed through the headquarters gate. He'd gotten no sleep this night and would likely only get a couple hours before "tomorrow" started in earnest. "Maybe we should've gone out with the afternoon patrols instead," he suggested wearily. "You know, there _were_ people saying they'd spotted red hair in the market street on--"

"Don't be ridiculous," Saito snapped, shoving the door open and stepping aside so the tired men could file in. "You know as well as I do that demons don't come out in daylight."

Okita shrugged again. "It's what the informants said, anyway. Or is it just that you'd rather meet him by moonlight for an uninterrupted duel?" the shorter man needled, not unkindly. "He'd be easier to catch during the day--no place to run, with that head of hair...and you know how he is about collateral damage, too, with all those people about."

"Yes..." Saito's eyes narrowed. "But I wouldn't have the satisfaction of killing him with my own sword."

"Hai, hai..." Okita yawned for the second time, whilst trying to nod agreeably. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to try and get some sleep before we have to meet with the patrol lieutenants again. Oyasumi nasai, Saito-san."

Without waiting for a rejoinder, Okita walked away, leaving Saito gazing after him with narrowed, impatient amber-brown eyes that burned with a tightly-bound desire for battle. "Good night indeed," he growled, turning to go his own way. "Not good enough, without Battousai's blood on my blade..."

* * *

Again, Kenshin was awakened in the gray hours of early morning--though at least this time, he hadn't had to work the previous night and had gotten plenty of sleep. However, this time it was not just the drowsily wakening ki that alerted him and brought him to consciousness; it was the nearness of that ki and the small wriggling body that began to stir in his lap.

Startled violet eyes opened, staring in confusion for a moment at the drowsy, blinking violet-blue ones that gazed back. For several seconds, Kenshin blinked incoherently, wondering how this tiny form had gotten there--until his brain warmed up and he recalled the sleepy little ki that had come up to him in the night and he, not awakening to the presence, had simply let the boy be.

Then Kenji stretched and yawned, taking up most of Kenshin's lap and spilling limbs over into the tangle of blanket that he'd dragged with him, which was now pooled halfway around Kenshin's legs and halfway about the boy. "'Haiyo, Touchan," he murmured, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Blinking once again, Kenshin raised his head and began to drop out of his usual sleeping posture, still watching the boy. "Ohaiyo," he replied softly, still rather startled at finding the sleepy child in his lap and not quite sure what to do with him now.

Kenji began to sit up, remaining half-curled in Kenshin's lap as he pulled himself up to sit against the youth's chest, still a bit sleepy-eyed but looking most serious. "Touchan, I gotta go potty," he announced gravely.

Kenshin stared at him for a beat. "Oh..." he responded lamely, realizing what had caused the child to wake. But really, was he going to have to escort Kenji to the toilet this early every morning? "Alright..." Hiding the beginnings of his rueful half-smile, Kenshin helped the boy out of his lap and stood up for his own stretch, sword in hand. "Mm... Come on then, let's go."

Once more into the quiet Inn they strode, hand-in-hand on silent feet. Again, only a few of the staff were up and about--particularly Sakura, trekking in and out with the water and giving Kenshin a most amused look as she hid her laughter and hurried on her way. Kenshin just sent Kenji into the toilet to do his business and stood waiting against the wall outside, ignoring any looks from either the tittering Sakura-san or any of the other servants who happened by.

He was back inside helping Kenji to wash his hands when he was bid a pleasant good morning by Okami-san, already up and dressed and looking quite ready to face the day. "You know," the older woman offered helpfully, hiding the twitching about her lips, "if you make sure he uses the toilet right before he goes to bed, he won't have to get up so early."

Kenshin didn't hide his own faint smile of gratitude. "Arigato. I should've known; I'll keep that in mind."

The matron only nodded, still trying to keep her face marshalled.

"Okami-san, ohaiyo!" Kenji greeted, even as Kenshin tried to catch his hands to dry them. "Breakfast time?"

"Almost," she replied, bending down a little to smile at the boy. "Are you hungry?"

"Un!" Kenji responded eagerly, his happy wriggles frustrating the young man who was attempting to keep the child's wet hands from dripping on the floor.

"How would you like your breakfast, Himura-chan?" Okami-san asked, laughing softly, reaching out with a gentle grasp to still the little boy's bouncing long enough for Kenshin catch up. "I can have things ready for you to eat with the men again, or you and Kenji-chan could eat on the porch again."

"Arigato," Kenshin sighed, finally putting the towel away. "I really don't mind either way--"

"Porch! Porch!" Kenji crowed, all but hopping up and down.

Kenshin glanced down at the child, hiding a rueful little half-smile. "The porch it is, I guess."

Okami-san laughed gently again. "Very well. You boys get dressed for the day, and I'll send one of the girls out shortly."

The young swordsman led Kenji back to his room to dress, and true to her word Okami-san had one of the kitchen helpers meet them at the porch a breakfast tray. With bare feet side by side dangling off the edge of the porch, the two redheads dug into the simple meal; Kenji grinning as he enjoyed the morning and the food, and Kenshin smiling faintly in response, unable to help it. The weather was clear and bright, and the coming night promised to be cloudless and cool.

Kenshin's smile faded, but he pushed the coldness away; he didn't want to think about tonight. He didn't want to think about the job he had to do--the lives he might have to take. He didn't want to shut himself away from his emotions yet; it would make him have to shut himself away from Kenji. And he hated that thought even more than he hated the idea of the murders he might have to commit. He would have to armor himself...but later--not now. Not yet.

He looked at Kenji's giggling face and found himself softening again. _No, not yet..._

As soon as he sensed them, he realized he should've known; setting down his empty dish, he reached over to wipe the remnants of breakfast from Kenji's face in a process that was becoming as familiar as drawing his own sword. _Hamano-tachi wouldn't waste a minute tracking me down once breakfast was over,_ he thought wryly, rather glad now that Kenji had "convinced" him to take his meal on the Inn's back porch. Out here, without the other soldiers about, he didn't feel so guarded.

Barely a couple seconds after he picked up the ki of his four friends, he could hear them clattering toward the Inn's rear door. Despite how much more at ease he was with them than with the rest of the Inn's population, he still drew himself inward, barely defensive, hiding the gentle face that so far, only Okami-san and Kenji had seen--replacing it with the cool, not-quite-emotionless mask he usually wore.

"--said he was out here having breakfast with Chibi-kou..." Hamano's voice trailed off as he stuck his head out the door, his face brightening as he caught sight of the two redheads. "There you are, Himura!"

The young samurai piled out the door, followed quickly by the rest. Takagi looked openly eager, and Tankei interested, while Komiba attempted to appear as though he couldn't care less. Kenshin glanced up at them, nodding slightly in cool greeting; Kenji was not startled by the presence of the newcomers--Kenshin guessed he might've sensed them as well--but he did grow more quiet, large-eyed once more as he peered around Kenshin at the tall men.

"Ohaiyo, Himura." Hamano simply grinned, jerking a thumb at his comrades. "They just couldn't wait to see the little guy, and since you kinda promised last night..."

"Aa, I did." Kenshin's expression wasn't quite a smile, but it was softer than his usual as the others stepped off the porch to cluster in front of the little boy at his side. "This is Kenji," he announced simply.

Takagi was practically beaming. "Hajimemashite, Kenji-kun, I'm Takagi Ryou--nice to meet you!"

Hanging back, Komiba snorted at the younger man's enthusiasm, but Kenji responded quite favorably. "Hello!" the little boy chirped, much of his reserve melting before the young samurai's genuine welcome.

"Kawaii na," Takagi chuckled, reaching out to ruffle the child's soft red hair. "And you look just like your tousan, too."

At Kenshin's somewhat annoyed look, Hamano laughed aloud. "There's another 'cute' for you, Himura--I guess you can't win!"

Takagi caught himself and drew back, suddenly red-faced. "Ah! Sumimasen, Himura-san, I didn't mean--"

"Iie, it's nothng," Kenshin sighed, earning a chuckle from Tankei this time.

"Indeed, the resemblance is very striking," the soft-spoken samurai observed, in his usual thoughtful manner. "Himura's features are quite unique, but somehow it doesn't surprise me to see them repeated so precisely in the next generation."

Kenji blinked up at him, the choice of big words confusing him somewhat. Tankei offered a smile to the child, nodding as if to an equal. "My name is Tankei," he stated simply.

"And that standoffish fellow over there is Komiba," Hamano added, stepping closer to throw the little boy a conspiratory wink. "He's only pretending to be mean, y'know--he's really very nice once you get to know him."

"Shut the hell up, Hamano," Komiba growled from his place against a porch post, a respectably cool distance from the rest.

"Komiba!" Takagi all but squawked. "Please, your language--there's a child here!"

The bowman snorted his opinion of that, but his ki flared with brief chagrin as he turned away, and Kenshin only spared him a glance, instead of a glare.

But Kenji didn't seem to mind; instead, he giggled and smiled widely. Quite taken with the bright-eyed child, Takagi soon coaxed the little boy off the porch and into a game in the yard, one that involved hopping on patterns drawn in the soft dust with a stick. Intrigued by the child, Tankei chose to accompany them, watching the activity with an amused smile and mild commentary.

That left Kenshin with Hamano and Komiba on the porch; the latter did not move from his place, but Hamano plunked down on the porch edge not far from Kenshin, amiably watching the humorous activity in the yard. Though his body was as relaxed as it could ever be in this open place, in the company of others, the former hitokiri's eyes followed Kenji's small form with a keen focus that spoke volumes to the two men with him.

"So," Hamano began softly, much of his previous boisterousness vanishing. "How'd that meeting go?"

Kenshin barely spared him a glance; his eyes stayed on the child, though he replied readily enough. "It went," he said, with a faintly distasteful curl to his mouth that, for the quiet and withdrawn ex-hitokiri, was as if he'd spat in disgust. "I don't know what I thought I was expecting from them..."

"You have to figure that when the situation changes this drastically, the paper-pushers are bound to get nervous," Hamano observed, in his usual easygoing manner.

"They wanted to take Kenji away," Kenshin informed his friends, startling himself with the hostility in his own voice. "They wanted to take him to Choshu territory, to keep him _safe_."

Hamano didn't look startled; then again, very little could ruffle the ever-relaxed young samurai. "We sorta figured as much--them wanting to grab the 'handle' on you before anybody else could."

"They tried. I said no. Katsura-san backed me up." Kenshin frowned faintly, still watching Kenji's cheerful face as he played. "They were not pleased."

Komiba scowled. "K'so. Did they threaten you?"

"Not out loud," Kenshin replied darkly.

"Those cowards wouldn't dare," Hamano half-chuckled. "Your reputation's got them scared shitless."

Still frowning, Kenshin glanced down. He might not like it, but Hamano was right; those men feared his name as much as anyone--perhaps more, since they knew him in person. It was that fact that kept them from openly challenging Katsura's decision, lower-ranks though they might be. Still, though the fear had radiated through the ki of all three of them, there was a rebelliousness in their resentment--especially that Mokushi. That man smiled and agreed on the outside, but on the inside he felt more devious by far than the other two.

"At least we can count on Katsura-san," Hamano was saying, continuing almost cheerfully. "And Takasugi-san too. They'll keep the dogs at bay."

Komiba snorted again. "I don't like it. Political bastards who call themselves samurai. Who says they won't try anything?"

Kenshin's right hand tightened, as if on the hilt of a sword. "If they do, they know the consequences."

"Oi, oi, easy there, ryu-san," Hamano cautioned half-jokingly with a raised eyebrow. "Those are Choshu troop leaders you're talking about. You can't just go hacking them up so easily."

Kenshin glanced sharply at his friend, frowning rather fiercely. "I won't let them--!"

Hamano raised his hands placatingly. "I know, I know! I'm just saying you should think about it. Even if one of them tried something, and you killed him, there might be major consequences that not even Katsura-san could protect you from. Some of those men have influence in Choshu."

"Aa, and there's already yarou out there who want to have you put down just for being hitokiri--" Komiba halted mid-sentence, clamping his mouth shut in a rare instance of realizing he was saying too much.

Kenshin didn't even blink. He already knew there were many who questioned Katsura-san's decision to keep him on as a soldier; in the opinion of most, there were no such things as _former_ hitokiri. They didn't know him--they didn't know he had no desire to kill beyond what he had to do for the cause. He was not like those men lost to the wild blood-madness and killing frenzy, that literally _had_ to be executed because they were no longer anything human.

After finishing a brief glare at Komiba's thoughtlessness, Hamano glanced back at the red-haired young swordsman. "Anyway, Himura...take it easy. Don't be too quick to draw your sword. Me and the guys--we'll back you up, you know. Nobody's gonna mess with Chibi-kou on our watch. Right, Komiba?"

Komiba snorted yet again, but nodded shortly.

"Nice to see you have such good friends, Himura," spoke a new voice.

Hamano and Komiba both started slightly, but Kenshin did not. Smiling only faintly, the former hitokiri turned his head to look up at the newcomer. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu, Takasugi-san."

Takasugi nodded, taking all three of them in his greeting. His own smile was lazy and sardonic, with the half-hidden razor edge that always imbued him. "The chibi's genki this morning, na?" the Kiheitai commander observed rather humorously. "Makes me wonder if you were that cute at his age, Himura."

Hamano tried vainly to cover his laughter, managing to sound vaguely like he was choking on something. Kenshin closed his eyes with a weary sigh.

"I see I'm not the only one who shares that opinion." Takasugi gave a brief chuckle. "By the way, Himura, when in your busy schedule did you manage to have a kid?"

Kenshin looked down, saying nothing.

"I have to admit, I'm curious," Takasugi went on. "What with hitokiri duties your first year and Katsura keeping you hopping so much, I'm surprised you found the time. He's...what, two?"

"Three," Kenshin murmured, almost without meaning to.

And somehow he'd surprised his former commander--the older man's eyebrows went up a bit. "Damn. You were--" Takasugi paused a moment as he thought back, remembering the short, slight redheaded boy that had shown up to enlist in his Kiheitai--remembering how he'd almost turned that boy down, thinking he had to be only ten years old and too small to fight, until given a demonstration of Hiten Mitsurugi. "...fourteen? That's awfully young..."

Kenshin heard the faint reproach in the commander's voice and found himself shrugging, not looking up. Technically, it wasn't true--but who'd believe the truth?

Now, Takasugi looked almost genuinely confused. "So who was it?" he asked rather softly. "An old girlfriend? Some farm maid between your master's place and mine? Someone in Kyoto? It couldn't have been..."

At Kenshin's brief, almost unnoticeable flinch, the Kiheitai commander broke off, realizing he was treading on sensitive ground. "Ah, gomen. I shouldn't have--."

"Iie..." Kenshin shook his head, dismissing the potential offense. It was impossible for people not to be interested--after all, what else could they think? The Ishinshishi's famous assassin, with a child? And it was impossible for it to have been Tomoe--they hadn't even been married long enough.

"That's nothing," Komiba snorted, rather distastefully. "You should hear what's going around between the men."

"Oi..." Hamano almost barked.

"What?" the bowman shot back. "You can't blame anybody for being curious who the mother is."

"Enough," Hamano commanded, frowning. Despite him, however, Takasugi was still watching Kenshin, his gaze inquisitive.

The red-haired swordsman did not flinch under the Kiheitai commander's eyes. "I...cannot say who his mother is," Kenshin said at last--as close to the truth as he could manage--in a tone that ended further questioning.

The uncomfortable silence that followed was broken by the sudden arrival of a breathless, laughing Kenji, who dashed in to pounce against Kenshin's knees. The former hitokiri's half-startled blink drew surprised chuckles from the other three men.

"Oro!"

"Touchan, I won! I won!" the little boy squealed happily, beaming from ear to ear. "Takagi-niichan fell down!"

"Ah, sou ka?" Kenshin couldn't help the little smile at the child's enthusiasm. "That was clumsy of him."

Takagi and Tankei were approaching once more, the younger samurai sheepishly dusting off his hakama. "I guess I'm out of practice," he confessed. "I haven't played that game in years."

Komiba was already laughing. "You knocked yourself on your ass playing hopscotch? Oh, that's rich..."

"Komiba, please!" Takagi gasped, wary of the bowman's language again.

Kenji only giggled, latching on to Kenshin's hand and tugging. "Touchan, asobo! Come play!"

"Ah--Kenji--" Kenshin glanced around at the highly amused faces of his companions. All of them managed to hold straight faces, with the exception of Takagi--who had let slip a tiny chortle.

Takasugi coughed, hiding a laugh. "Well. Feel free to enjoy yourself, Himura. I'll just be on my way..."

As the Kiheitai commander headed back into the Inn--chuckling softly to himself--Kenji continued to pull for all he was worth, almost bouncing up and down with excited impatience. "Touchan, come _on!_ You never play!"

Unable to resist, Hamano leaned over to nudge the rather stunned swordsman. "Yeah, come on, 'Touchan.' Go play hopscotch with the chibi."

Kenshin tried to shoot his friend a dark glare, but it was hard to be entirely convincing with an eager three-year-old tugging him off the porch. At last, internally cringing under the scrutiny of all four friends, he gave up and let himself be dragged to his feet. "Yare yare...alright, Kenji, I'll go..."

"Yosh'!" the tiny boy squealed, beaming. "Touchan better not fall down!"

"I don't think I will," Kenshin replied, allowing the child to pull him toward the slightly-smudged designs in the dust.

"Ano, Himura-san," spoke yet another new voice from the Inn door, before they could get very far. The entire group turned to see Sakura peering out at them, bowing briefly in the presence of the samurai. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but Katsura-sama wishes to speak with you..."

Kenshin caught his breath, feeling the familiar, hated ice creeping into the edges of his heart, and the schooled emptiness falling over his face. _That's right. The mission. Tonight._ "Hai. Thank you, Sakura-san. I will be in directly."

The woman nodded, then disappeared.

Sensing the sudden cold, unpleasant hush that had fallen over his father and the rest of the men, Kenji's cheer had vanished. Instead of bouncing, he tightened his grip on Kenshin's fingers and looked up at him, worried. "Touchan?"

_Kenji..._ At the child's small, quavering tone, Kenshin's eyes tightened and his emotions fought with themselves--warmth against cold, affection against emptiness. For a brief moment, his own ki was painfully unbalanced, and the two more experienced warriors among his friends could just pick it up.

"K'so," Komiba hissed, scowling fiercely. "What a shitty time for a job."

Hamano's easygoing expression had hardened as well. Uninformed he and the others might be, but they knew that the only reason Katsura Kogoro summoned the red-haired swordsman was either to brief him on a mission or debrief him after one. Rarely did the Choshu political leader call for his favored soldier for any other cause.

"Touchan?"

With a breath, Kenshin finally beat back the ice one more time. Softening his expression with an effort, he knelt down to look the little boy in the eye. "Gomen, Kenji. I can't play now. Katsura-san needs me."

"Demo..."

"Maybe you can play with Takagi again?" Kenshin suggested, glancing at the other young samurai and catching his nod.

"But Touchan," Kenji protested plaintively, his chin quivering a little. "You _never_ play."

Kenshin's jaw tightened. Whoever his future self was, he'd better have a damn good reason for _that_. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I'm going to have a job to do. Can you stay here and play for a little while?"

For a moment, the little boy looked like he would either rebel or burst into tears. But somehow he didn't; he frowned as much as a small child can and nodded reluctantly.

"Good. I'll be back as soon as I can." Kenshin stood up again, and Kenji gradually let go of his hand. Still feeling the ice at the edge of his consciousness, the young swordsman turned away with an effort and strode for the Inn door. "Hamano," he said, pausing a moment as he passed. "Can one of you watch him for a few minutes?"

The samurai nodded gravely. "Aa. No problem, Himura. You go ahead."

Without another word, the Ishinshishi former hitokiri headed off to be informed what bloody mission he would have to perform next, leaving Kenji behind--and this time, exposed.

* * *

"I'll get straight to the point," Katsura Kogoro said bluntly, gazing flatly at the young swordsman sitting across from him. "Your mission tonight is another escort. Hopefully everything will go without a problem, and there will not be a need for your sword."

"Hai." Sitting rigidly on a cushion in Katsura's quarters, Kenshin relaxed infinitesimally. Relieved that it was not an offensively-based assignment, he let out a breath and allowed his eyes to flicker from Katsura to Takasugi, who sat beside the Ishinshishi political leader. "Katsura-san. Since it's an escort mission, and since you have given it to _me_, I assume that it's someone very important?"

Both older men smiled knowingly. "Quite," Katsura replied. "Takasugi is returning to his troops in the field this evening. I need to you make sure he gets safely out of the city. He came in with Mokushi-tachi before, and was safe with their swordsmen, but tonight he is leaving alone. I am assigning you, Hamano, and Morimoto to escort him. You will meet with Takasugi's men outside the city, and they will take him from there."

Kenshin nodded. "It will be done."

"You'll need to be extra careful," Katsura continued. "Our informants have sent word that the Shinsengumi has changed its patrols again, with more dense patterns and timing. It will be more difficult to leave the city unnoticed, especially with a group of men after dark. But I cannot send Takasugi out in daylight, with the same patrols in the streets, where both he and you are too easily recognized."

"With the cover of darkness, there's a better chance of slipping through," Kenshin agreed, half to himself. "And if we are discovered, I will remain as defense while Takasugi and the others escape."

Katsura nodded, almost sadly. "I always regret using you like that, Himura. But I am afraid it must be done." _And now, of all times...with the child...he almost looked like he wanted to refuse..._

"I have given you my word, Katsura-san."

Beside him, Takasugi smiled. "It's a dirty job, Himura; I know that. But I'm glad it's you who'll be watching my back out there."

Kenshin couldn't quite find the wherewithal to smile at the compliment, but he did incline his head to Takasugi-san with a slightly softer look. "I am honored to be of service," he replied formally.

"I will inform Hamano and Morimoto as well," Katsura said at last. "I would advise you to eat early this evening. The mission will begin one hour after sunset."

"Hai. Wakarimashita." The red-haired swordsman bowed stiffly, shortly, then gathered his swords and rose to leave. "I will be prepared."

When the door slid shut behind him, Takasugi flopped back from his formal position and leaned against the wall. "Damn. He's taking it well, but it's upsetting him."

Closing his eyes, Katsura nodded. "Aa. His heart is on the child now."

"Almost thought he'd turn you down," the Kiheitai commander observed shrewdly. "Promise or no promise. He sure as hell doesn't want to be out killing men with his kid waiting at home."

"Sou desu..." Katsura sighed. _It is hurting him. The part of him that longs to remain open to the boy is the part that must close itself off to perform these missions...he does not know how to be father and warrior in the same moment..._

"I know the kid is good for him, like the girl was--but the downside..." Takasugi commented quietly, trailing off. "If something happens to that chibi, it really _would_ kill him this time. I don't think he could live through it again..."

"I hope he'll never learn how close I was to ordering him to send the boy to Choshu," Katsura replied, keeping his voice low as if to hide the disappointment. "But even in the homes of my closest friends, there is danger--almost as much as there is here. So much could go wrong, and we would be too far away." He sighed tiredly, regretfully. "Things would go much more smoothly if the child had not come here--but now that he is and Himura has taken him in, all I can do is pray, and try to protect them both as much as I can without compromising our mission."

"There isn't a place in any city you could put that kid," Takasugi told him bluntly. "He's too recognizable to the wrong people. He's in the way here, but you can't send him anywhere else. No way around it--wherever he goes, the kid's either a hostage, a target, or a burden."

Katsura closed his eyes wearily. "That is why, for the moment, the safest place for the boy is right at his father's side. Right now, I can grant them both no better security than that. Things are stable, so I can allow them this much..."

The quiet seemed loud for a long time, far too much left unsaid.

"Would you let him go?" Takasugi asked softly, into the silence, breaking into his old friend's thoughts.

"Eh?" Katsura looked at him, puzzled for a moment.

"Despite what he promised," the commander clarified, his gaze piercing. "If he wanted to take his son and get the hell out of this, would you let him go?"

Looking down, Katsura thought carefully for long, quiet moments. "If he decided to leave," he replied at last, "none of us could stop him. But we need him so much, especially now..."

Takasugi looked away, having apparently seen his answer. "I wish you could let him go. He's been through enough already, and if he loses that kid on top of it--"

"I know," Katsura snapped, uncharacteristically sharp. "I know that, and I feel for Himura as a friend. But I have a cause to lead, and a greater purpose to achieve, and I can't be lenient even with him."

After a moment, Takasugi sighed as well. "Sou da na. It's a damn shame, and we both know it. I just hope nothing goes wrong."

"Aa." Katsura closed his eyes again, knowing that neither Takasugi nor himself were speaking solely about the mission tonight. "I pray everything will be well."

* * *

Kenshin wandered back toward the rear door of the Inn, somewhere between ice-cold focus and being lost in his own thoughts--a strange combination indeed, for the former hitokiri. A dangerous one, for someone whose life depended on sight and sense and a hair's-breadth of instantaneous movement--as it would tonight.

As three other lives would depend on him tonight.

Approaching the back door, the sense of others and the sounds of voices brought him around, turned his inward gaze outward--and even sharper. Not just his friends and Kenji awaited him ahead--and as he stepped out onto the porch, he found an astonishingly large crowd.

It seemed as though half the Ishinshishi stationed at the Inn had turned out to the back yard, creating a veritable zoo. It centered around three familiar individuals and a small, bright, worried ki, and the yard was abuzz with voices.

Kenshin's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened, and his left hand gripped the sheath of his katana. Hamano, Komiba, and Takagi were in the middle of the ruckus, with soldiers pressed in and almost shoving each other to get a look at a certain tiny red-haired child.

"--really Battousai's kid--"

"--chicchai da na--"

"--no mistake, look at that hair--"

"--probably be scrawny just like--"

"--oi, chibi, over here, c'mon--

"--wonder if his eyes do that same--"

"Oi, back off, Nishira!" Hamano's voice rang out, strident. "You're scaring the kid!"

Unconsciously, Kenshin's lips pulled back from his teeth, twisting his face into a protective snarl for a single unguarded instant. Then he was simply cool, silent fury again, stepping off the porch to stride purposefully into the group. As those on the edges noticed him, they began to go pale and silent, yelping and stumbling over each other to get out of his way. The disturbance drew the attention of the rest, and the noise fell away as the soldiers hurriedly cleared a path.

In the middle of them, Takagi looked positively relieved, as if Kenshin's arrival had just stemmed a terrible riot. Hamano too, but he also seemed wary, as if fearing that the former hitokiri--and still fearsome killer--would take offense and slaughter these men. But, with smooth and deliberate steps, and without budging his blade, Kenshin soon reached the side of his friends, where Kenji peeked out from Takagi's legs to smile suddenly upon seeing him.

"Touchan!" the little boy squealed, leaving the safety of "Takagi-niichan's" side to dart to Kenshin's. He latched his small arms around the swordsman's leg, happy and relieved.

Without dropping his gaze from his friends and the men around them, Kenshin let his right hand slip down to brush gently across Kenji's soft hair. "What's going on?" he asked simply, his voice the same low, quiet monotone that most of the men were familiar with--but the strength beneath as hard as his touch was soft.

Hamano spoke up first, using his easygoing tones to diffuse the situation. "Ah, nothing much. The guys here are just being a little too curious, that's all."

Komiba snorted.

"I see." Kenshin's eyes traced across the frozen group of men, each of them feeling a shiver up their spines under the cold gaze of Hitokiri Battousai--and even if he wasn't _technically_ a hitokiri any more, it still counted in all the ways that mattered.

"They didn't mean any harm, Himura-san," Takagi piped up nervously. "They just...um, wanted to see him..."

Kenshin reached down and took Kenji's hand, his gaze not piercing any one individual, but seeming to encompass them all. "This child," he stated, his voice gaining just a hint of a razored katana's edge, "is _not_ a sideshow."

There was the sound of many apologetic murmurs and scuffling feet, but Kenshin ignored them all--he turned and led the quiet and subdued Kenji back toward the Inn, away from the prying eyes and curious stares of the soldiers.

Not only did their blatant, rather perverse--in his opinion--interest annoy him because it frightened Kenji, it also nicked something deep and painful inside his own heart. Something old and half-forgotten--whispers and pointed fingers and stares and shame. A constant in his life ever since he was old enough to recognize the scorn and scrutiny of others, and to realize how _different_ he was, in everything--in the questionable circumstances of his birth, his impossibly un-Japanese coloring, his inexplicable inherent abilities, his unbelievable skill with a sword, his status as hitokiri, or _ex_-hitokiri...he had stood apart from others since the moment his life began. And in this society, being _unusual_ had only brought disgust, contempt, or morbid fascination from others.

He might not let himself feel the sting any longer, but he would not allow such things to be directed at Kenji--not if he could help it. He would shield the child from that humiliation--Kenji would not be stared at, poked at, nor regarded as a tool or a novelty. He would not allow his son to be made uncomfortable in his own skin, ashamed of his appearance, ability, or origins.

Kenshin led the little boy down the Inn hall, toward the stairs--toward the room they now shared, where he could close the door on the rest of the world and feel more secure than he would anywhere else. Kenji stayed close at his side, quiet, the strong little ki still slightly worried and confused from the ordeal of the overly curious crowd outside. The child did not--_could_ not--understand the motivation of those men, who, however benign their intent might have been, had alarmed him with their number and proximity, and the many invasive hands that had tried to reach for him.

In his room, Kenshin slid the door shut with an involuntary sigh of relief, glad to be away from the mob in the yard. By now, he guessed, Hamano would have thoroughly scolded the nosy men and sent them tail-tucked on their way.

Kenji giggled at last and tugged away to go and play with his top, as Kenshin set down his swords to sit near the window once again. The little boy was showing no lasting effects from the scary crowd encounter; it seemed that he'd already forgotten in light of his toy, which he was tossing into a spin with startling skill there on the floor.

Kenshin rested his head against the windowframe, fighting off a frown. Really, he'd been well aware of the need to protect Kenji from threats outside the Inn, but he'd never expected to have to defend him from his own comrades.

But then, considering the meeting last night, perhaps his own comrades were the ones he had to be the most cautious of. After all, a traitor's deception had resulted in tragedy for him before...

"Touchan?" Kenji's voice broke into his thoughts, making him blink. "Touchan, play with me?"

Kenshin pushed aside his brief suspicious musing to glance down at the boy; Kenji stood before him with the little red ball, watching him eagerly. "Play..." the young swordsman murmured, mouth quirking. The only reason he'd even contemplated a game of "hopscotch" or whatever that had been was because he thought it looked rather too callous of him to turn the boy away, with all of his companions watching. Now...there was no one to see, and he really didn't feel drawn toward play any more, not when he'd long since left childhood behind...

"Touchan?" Kenji asked again, hesitant but eager. "Play with me? Please?"

The child was so hopeful, yet a shadow of crushing disappointment lingered in the back of his ki; he expected to be turned away, but held out hope beyond hope that Kenshin would reach out.

So reach out he did, slowly, meeting the small boy's brightening eyes as his slim fingers closed on the red ball and lifted it--testing its meager weight, the smoothness of its surface. Kenshin studied the plaything for silent moments, wondering how such a simple object could give this bright little child so much happiness.

His face practically glowing with excitement, Kenji scuttled back and waved his small arms, smiling bright as a lantern. "Throw it, Touchan! Ball's for throwin'! Throw here!"

Kenshin's mouth quirked again as he watched the little boy, who offered him direction as though "Touchan" had never seen a ball before. And to be honest, he admitted, it might as well have been the case; he hadn't played with any sort of ball since he was six--before Shishou, before the slave traders, before his parents died...

"Throw it, huh?" Kenshin said, voice soft but humorous. "Are you sure you can catch it?"

"Un!" The child nodded happily. "Throw!"

With a mental shrug, Kenshin gave the ball a gentle underhand toss, just enough to cross the few strides' distance between himself and the boy. Giggling, Kenji caught it in both hands, looking supremely pleased.

"Here comes, Touchan!" the playful boy announced, lobbing the ball back at Kenshin with impressive accuracy for a child so young.

The red-haired swordsman did not move a muscle other than his left arm; the catch was easy enough when so cleanly aimed, and he simply placed his left hand in the ball's trajectory, which was heading for the center of his chest. There was surprising strength and control in the throw, not just in the aim but in the speed and arc.

_He's got a good arm, and good eyes,_ Kenshin considered with a flash of marveling pride. _I wonder if other kids his age can do this._

He tossed the ball a little harder this time, and Kenji caught it yet again, easily. The ball came back again, accompanied by giggles, and Kenshin swiped it out of the air with his other hand, finding himself fighting off a smile.

"You must play ball a lot," Kenshin observed, continuing the game.

"Mm," Kenji replied with a nod. "Lots'n lots."

The ball came zinging back at him, and Kenshin caught it with his usual careless ease. "Maa, take it easy, Kenji," he cautioned with the faintest of chuckles. "We're indoors; don't throw too hard."

Kenji grinned sheepishly--or as sheepish as a child so full of laughter and impishness could be. "Kaachan always says don't throw the ball inside."

Kenshin cocked an eyebrow. "I'm sure she does, and she's probably right."

"Aa..." Drooping slightly, Kenji gazed at the ball in the older youth's hands and tried to look repentant. "Shouldn't throw inside."

Kenshin glanced from the boy to the ball and back again, an edge of long-forgotten mischief creeping into him. "But..." he began, drawing the little boy's gaze back up to meet his suprisingly real smile. "...I won't tell, if you don't."

Kenji's face brightened instantly once again, and he grinned merrily. "I won't tell!"

"Yosh'. Then here it comes." Kenshin tossed the ball. "Just don't break anything."

"Haaai!"

Kenshin got more enjoyment out of watching the light and life in Kenji's face than out of merely throwing the red ball. It was amazing, to him, to see the tiny boy smile--every childish laugh lifting his heart somehow, as though they were little wings. And eventually Ball-Toss became Keep-Away, just because Kenshin was feeling mischievous and he wanted to make Kenji laugh even more.

So Kenshin teased with the small ball, tossing it from hand to hand, not noticing the smile on his own face as Kenji howled with giggles and bounced around him, trying to intercept the lively toy. And after a few unsuccessful attempts, the child decided to take charge and pounced on the former hitokiri, landing full in his lap in an attempt to stop his quick hands.

Startled, Kenshin went rigid for a half-instant, unused to such abrupt contact--but, chiding himself for foolishness, he let Kenji's insufficient attack topple him to the floor near the window, flat on his back. Quite beginning to forget himself, he pretended to be trapped under the little boy's weight as Kenji sat firmly on his stomach--small hands darting across his chest, seeking the ball.

"Oh no you don't...!" The former hitokiri's quick fingers found the child's ribs, turning Kenji from a determined little boy to a shrieking, wriggling puddle of laughter. The ball bounced away across the floor, forgotten, as Kenshin tickled the giggles out of his small would-be tormentor, unaware of the almost childlike smile that graced his own features.

"Stop! Stop!" Kenji shrieked, squirming helplessly in hilarity. "Touchaaan! No--no fair--_eep!_"

At last, laughing quietly himself at the sheer merriment of the situation, Kenshin relented, having tickled his little victim into submission. Exhausted--and still giggling here and there--Kenji flopped on his father's chest, breathless and secure, his ki glowing invisibly, steadily, in playful contentment.

This warmth and companionship was still new to him--but for a welcome moment, Kenshin let his arms fall around the child; just to hold him for a little while, cherishing the trust that radiated from the small bright spirit.

Treasuring this moment, before he would have to remember his mission tonight, and push the child away...

Before he could dwell on the future, the small form on his chest stirred--and perhaps Kenji was not as defeated as he'd first thought; tiny fingers brushed across his own ribs, poking, searching for weaknesses. "And what are _you_ up to?" he queried, raising an eyebrow at the little boy.

Kenji grinned unrepentantly. "Gonna getcha, Touchan!"

"Get me, huh?" Unable to help his mischievous smile, Kenshin rolled over--playfully, quickly, but as gentle as a woolly blanket's embrace--until Kenji was on the bottom of the little wrestling match. "We'll see about that. I think I've got you!"

Fingers flashed and giggles returned as the tickle war resumed. And somehow, despite all his skills and power, Kenshin knew he'd lose in the end.

He would always lose to that smile.

* * *

Just outside the door, one fist poised to knock, Hamano Akira stood frozen in shock and wonder at the noises coming from within the former hitokiri's quarters--a child's high-pitched giggles, acccompanied by soft, boyish laughter. He almost could not believe his own ears, hearing the sound of his silent, solemn companion's ever-hidden heart and soul.

_Masaka...I forget he's so young...I forget that he can even laugh..._ Swallowing hard, he lowered his hand. _How can they keep making him fight this war for them? Kami-sama...he's just a kid...he shouldn't have to live through this hell..._

His jaw tightening, Hamano turned back to the hall and walked away, leaving his friend in peace for a little while longer. Battle plans and mission discussions could wait a few more hours, anyway.

It wasn't nearly as important as what was happening in that room just then.

_To be continued..._

_**AN:** Thank you to everyone for being so patient with me!  
Also, I don't want to shock anybody, but this story is not based directly on any of the OVA's or even specifically the anime; I prefer to refer directly to the Rurouni Kenshin manga whenever I can. Sure, the OVA/movies were beautiful, and I appreciate their artistry and depth, but where they conflict with the manga's telling, well...I'm afraid I have to side with the manga. _

Apart from my obvious little AU tendency here...

Later all!


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